


Faith from Ashes

by greyassassin24



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dalish Origin, Dark Magic, Empath, Empathy, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Harrowing, Leliana's Cute, Lothering, Mage Origin, Multiple Wardens, Novelization, Origins, Pacifism, Pre-Canon, The Joining, Two Warden, Warden Dies, Xenophobia, pure empathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyassassin24/pseuds/greyassassin24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peace never lasts forever. An ancient enemy, long thought dead, has arisen again, and the only people who can stop them are dead. It now falls to two lost souls to unite what remains of the world, with a single objective left: Resist.</p><p>All that stands between the Darkness and the Light is a widow broken and in mourning, and a teenaged woman with pure empathy.</p><p>Tl'dr: A novelization of Dragon Age: Origins, while being heavily rewritten to provide a new, more epic, story while exploring the characters far more in-depth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Harrowing

_ Author's Note: Thank you so much for checking out my story! This has been a result of an incredible amount of work, filled with plenty of blood, sweat and tears, and it means so much to me that you have clicked on it! I want this to be my best story yet, so if you have any sort of comments or suggestions, no matter how small, I want to hear them! Please leave a review or send me a PM with any ideas you have to make it better. Thank you again, and please enjoy! _

* * *

 

The morning dawned cold and clear, a hint of a summer's breeze upon the air. Marilina Amell and her mother Revka strode into the markets together, hand in hand.

“Momma!” Marilina cried, holding up a silken dress of royal blue from the stands, one that shimmered and sparkled when the sun touched it. “Look at how pretty!”

“It'd look cute on you.” Her mother laughed, touching it and feeling how smooth the fabric felt under her fingers. She looked around, obviously nervous about something. In the distance, a man in heavy platemail stood, staring at her. He nodded solemnly at her, and she bowed her head in response. This was happening. This was how it was going to end.

Mara would hate her for the rest of her life for this.

“Momma?” Mara tugged on her sleeve, and Revka looked down at her, swallowing thickly when she saw the innocence in her daughter's bright blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

Revka smiled and nodded. Oh, her sweet little child. So young, and yet so compassionate and loving to everyone and everything. If only she could understand what was about to happen. Then maybe, just maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

She knelt down beside her daughter, firmly placing a hand on either of her shoulders and meeting her eyes, tears welling in them. “Listen to me, little sweetheart. You are my special little girl, and you were born to do great things. I love you with all my heart. There are... there are going to be some things, things that are going to happen in the next few days next few days. Things that are going to be difficult, things that you're not going to understand. I just want you to know that, no matter how it may look, no matter how you may feel, I only had you in my heart and that you mother loves you and always will.”

“Momma?” Mara asked, quirking her head to the side. “What's wrong? What's happening?” And as she spoke, more of those men in armour approached. There were a dozen, two dozen of them, all set with grim, expressionless faces. Revka closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face, and hugged her daughter one last time, kissing her again and again.

A moment later, the men were upon them, and they pried mother and daughter from one another. Mara screamed the whole way as they carried her away into her future, and Revka collapsed, broken.

She had given her daughter one last chance at life. Now it was up to her to do something with it.

* * *

 

**Twelve Years Later**

Mara lay on her bed in the middle of the dormitory, eyes blood shot and open wide. The years since hadn't been kind to her. Her hair was long, thick and black, her eyes a dark blue, and a hideous scar across her throat.

Her mother's inaction all those years ago had sent her to the Circle of Magi, a prison for mages. It was here she had been raised an educated for so many years, and, despite hating the cage in which she was kept, had quickly grown into a compassionate and loving young woman that her mother could have been incredibly proud of. Among her peers she was well now well known as being the kind, intelligent and empathetic one of the Circle, always available to sit and talk with, willing to listen and give a reassuring smile.

But tonight she had nothing to smile over. She knew what was coming. She could hear the feet of metal boots scuffling on the stone bricks of the floor. Dragging, scratching, coming closer.

It was happening again.

They were coming for her in the middle of the night, as they always did. They grabbed her from her bed, and pulled her along with them, kicking and screaming herself hoarse the whole of the way. Everyone else in the dormitory heard her, even though they pretended not to. They simply pulled their blankets over their heads, and prayed that their turn would not come.

Mara was only sixteen summers old when they dragged her away for the Harrowing, and her life would never be the same.

The Templars threw her into the middle of the floor, and she landed with a _thud_ , crashing to the ground like a doll. She coughed hard, her voice hoarse and in agony with how she had screamed the whole of the way up here. For a brief moment, she lay there, frozen. Trembles travelled from her legs and fluttered up her neck. This had to be a nightmare! That had to be it. Any minute now, she would awaken in her bed, relief calming her frantic pulse because she would not be facing this.

Then she opened her eyes and glanced up. This was real. So, so very real.

Seven templars stood in a half circle, surrounding her, closing her in. Their faces were impassive, and each expression seemed to have been etched from stone as if a sculptor erased any warmth from his creation. To the side, Irving peered down at her from behind eyes that flashed with emotion but cleared the next instant. Seven templars. Mara tensed. Irving taught her everything she knew of magic, which wasn't a lot. Healing and creation magic flowed within her and grasping it was easier than other forms. She had always been better at making shoes and reading than magic.

That was why she was here. Because of magic. Because she could focus it into energy, to create and destroy at will. And that scared the rest of the world.

“W-w-what am I doing here?” Mara asked, wide eyes pleading with Irving as she stood. They both knew the answer.  She just didn't want to hear it. She wanted to pretend, if only for a moment, that they had stolen her from bed just for a friendly chat.

Irving gave a heavy sigh, twisting the knife in her heart. “You know what this is, child.” His voice was heavy, an edge of darkness to his tone. His brows wrinkled and his lips flattened together. She knew the Grand Enchanter well enough to know he was not happy.

“No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she felt he cold steel of a Templar's gauntlet clamped on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “No, no, no.” She shook her head in rapid movements, left to right. Her eyes bulged and her lips shook. “Don't make me do this. Please.” She begged. If this happened, she wouldn't see the sunrise. She wouldn't survive this. “Please, don't make me do this.”

He shook his head sadly, the whole of his body language cut off and restrained, grim. “You have to.” And she knew that too. Every last mage did this, eventually. Every last one that survived, that is. The students who didn't would come back days later with the tranquil brand on their foreheads, emotion gone from their voices. They were lifeless, monotone husks.

“Please.”

The templar who was standing next to Irving, the Knight-Commander Greagoir, stepped forward towards her. Mara swallowed hard, and stepped forward as well. All of the templars had swords. She couldn't fight, couldn't resist. She wouldn't survive this, there was no way she could, but she would also be cut down in moments if she refused.

For a moment, she also felt the need to feel angry at the templars for this, to feel the heat lick at her skin as she was forced through this, but she couldn't find it in her. They were only doing what was best for her, and for everyone.

Even if that meant a trial she couldn't possibly survive.

Someone, something, haunted her dreams. A woman, watching her from afar, in the distance. Mutely staring, watching, waiting. When she had told the Templars, they knew what it was. A demon. Waiting for it's chance to claim her, to take and twist her mind into an abomination of it's own will. They had tried again and again to defeat it, to drive this mysterious woman away, to no avail.

This was her final chance. They were here to send her into the Fade, the dream world of magic and nightmares, to confront her demon herself.

And there was no second chance if she failed.

Irving bowed his head, and approached her. Mara closed her eyes, and hung her head. A moment later his fingers were on her forehead, hot and burning from magic.

And then she was slipping away, back and away, into her dreams. For a moment, the world rushed up to meet her, and then there was darkness.

* * *

 

Eventually, Mara's awoke with an awful headache and memories swirling around in her head, somehow finding the strength to pry her eyes open. There was a dull, ringing pain that filled her head, throbbing and stinging.

The sky above her was a sickly green, almost yellow, evil and menacing. The landscape was made of floating islands and twisted trees.

This was the Fade. Home of demons and nightmares.

Mara stood on her feet, desperately trying to steady herself. “I can do this.” She whispered words she didn't believe to encourage herself. “I can do this.” Taking a shuttering breath, she stood up fully.

Something was watching her. The demon was watching her, eyes boring into the back of her neck. When she turned, no one and nothing was behind her. But still it watched, still it's eyes were locked on her. Se could feel it's gaze, and she shivered under it.

She walked along the broken and crumbling pathways, following from where she felt it's gaze. As she reached it's vigil, the gaze shifted, now on the horizon again. Like a cat stalking it's prey. She was being teased, tested. She sighed, taking another shuttering breath, and followed it where it guided. Wherever it would choose to confront her, Mara had to follow.

“ _Well now..._ ” A voice crawled within her head, eerie and slow, tone dripping with an eagerness and amusement. “ _What have we here?_ ”

The demon. That was obviously to whom the voice belonged, what else could it be? Her hunter, the one she was here to confront, inside of her head to taunt her further.

“You know who I am.” Mara murmured, wringing her hands together nervously. “I think the better question is who are you, demon?” The words sounded bolder than she felt. The world may have locked her away because magic was such a powerful tool, but she had little control or willpower over it. She knew more of gardening and making shoes, the only magic she knew was to mend wounds and create life from a dead bush. When faced with something as powerful as a demon…

It chuckled as she followed it's gaze and voice, deep and ominous. “ _I do know who you are, little one. But as to what I am… I am not the one that you've come for. Were I the one that hunted you… you would already be mine._ ”

Mara shrugged off it's words, a knot of terror in her chest that she tried desperately not to show. Demons were clever, and to listen too closely to what it said was death. Instead she clenched her hands, gritted herself, and continued on.

“ _You don't believe me._ ” It chuckled again. “ _You will. I am Despair, the one that is there when all hope and faith leave you. I am the one you turn to when there is nothing and no one left to protect you._ ”

True to it's words, flashes of old repressed memories arose as it spoke, that slow voice that dragged like nails across concrete dragging up the most painful memories of her life. _Being dragged away from momma, screaming as she does nothing to stop it, won't even look at me. Momma! Momma! Save me!_

_But she does nothing. Betrayed, forgotten, abandoned. Waking up screaming, with hot flashes of memories from my old life. I tore our whole family apart, and this is all of my punishment._

_See how easily you could be mine?_

Mara collapsed onto the ground beneath her, clutching desperately at the broken stones of the road beneath her soles. Sweat had furrowed on her brow, and tears welled in her eyes as desperation took her.

As she fell, gasping and breathing hard and fast, she felt a hand laid on her shoulder, warm and comforting. She looked over her shoulder with wide eyes full of fear, and there stood a woman cloaked in blue, shimmering in the eerie glow of the Fade. The woman's eyes were understanding and loving, and she wrapped Mara in her arms, curling her in warmth.

“Who-?” Mara began, but was quickly hushed by the woman holding her closer.

“ _Hush._ ” She whispered, laying her forehead on Mara's. Mara let out a sigh of contentment, now warm and loved. Whatever was happening, whatever was wrong, it was all going to work out, surely.

“ _My name is Faith._ ” She whispered in a warm voice that was as sweet as a peach. “ _I'm the one that's been watching over you._ ”

Mara looked up, pushing the woman away as best she could, though was still in her arms. “You're the one I'm here for.” She rasped, her voice quiet and terrified. “You're the one that's been haunting my dreams.”

“ _Yes._ ” She admitted, meeting Mara's eyes with her own, bright and beautiful. “ _I've been… watching over you. Making sure that these other demons don't claim you like they do so many others._ ”

Ordinarily, Mara wouldn't have believed such a story, knowing how easy of a lie that could be, but something in this woman's eyes, in her voice, an aura of sincerity that made her utterly believe this spirit.

Mara had something of pure compassion and insight into the mind's of others, able to see into the thoughts and emotions of others in extreme empathy. Often times, her thoughts would assume the mind of another and she would lose sight of herself, and what was done by others and what was done by herself. Looking into the mind of Faith, she saw no guile, no deception. Only honesty, and compassion.

“Why?” Mara whispered quietly. “Why me, specifically?” Mages were constantly being possessed by demons that took their minds, better men and women than her. Why would this spirit watch over her specifically?

“ _Because you are… unique._ ” She whispered, enveloping Mara in her arms once more. “ _You are special. I know it, and your mother knew it._ ”

“Don't talk about my mother.” Mara hissed, trying to be angry even with the aura of love that surrounded the spirit. Her mother had abandoned her, never even making an effort to save her. And now she was in this prison across an ocean, in another country.

“ _She loved you._ ” Faith murmured, and the voiced was enough to soothe Mara's seething anger. “ _You don't know what sacrifices she made for you. And she knew that you are special, that you were made to do great things. She gave up everything so that you could have a chance to do what you were meant to do, and I see the same in you. So I've watched over you, all of your life. Someone as unique as you deserves better than to be twisted and corrupted into some spawn of a demon._ ”

“Thank you.” She whispered, in awe that someone had taken so much effort to protect her. She didn't believe it's words of her being special, she was just no one. How could someone so plain, so awful at everything, change the world? But that anyone in the world cared that much for her made her smile.

“ _Now, listen to me._ ” Faith said, pulling Mara back again to meet her eyes. “ _In the next few days, things are going to change, and you are going to be scared. But don't fight it, follow the change. You can't do anything for the world locked up here in this tower, and the change that's coming is going to set you free. Do you understand?_ ”

Mara nodded. She didn't quite know why she was agreeing, but there was just something about this woman that made her believe her. Mara could assume the perspective of other people, an exceptionally gifted empath only further aided by her magic, and there was no hint of guile in this woman. Nothing but sincerity and wanting the best for her.

“ _Good._ ” Faith smiled. “ _And when you get back, tell your Templars that you killed me, or they might kill you for having interacted with a spirit and survived. They don't take chances, and I don't want all of my work protecting you to have gone to waste, okay?_ ”

Mara nodded again, and then she felt the whole of the world slipping away again.


	2. Warmer Hands

Gradually the world began to return to her. Mara opened her eyes, blinking slowly as the realm of nightmares disappeared. At first, the world was a pure, burning white, and then it became a black-and-white monotone of singular form. Then the colours came back, one by one, until everything was normal once more. She gave a sigh of relief and fell back onto her bedsheets.

Maker's Breath, but that had been… an experience, to be certain. She rubbed her eyes, a flood of memories flooding back to her as she remembered what she had seen in the Fade. That spirit, Faith, alongside that demon, Despair… that had not been what she had expected. First of all she had expected a fight of some kind, though the lack of it was a relief considering she would have lost for sure. And this spirit… watching over her? Like a guardian angel? That was… not unheard of, certainly, but such a rarity. And for one to choose to watch over someone as plain as herself? Surely Faith had made a mistake, to be guarding over such a normal person. What was it Faith had said? That her mother knew she was special? How could she even know that?

Her mother. Revka. She cursed that name, in spite of her peaceable nature. The one who had sent her daughter to this hell-hole, and for what? Because she was scared of her magic? To appease the Templars? To 'do her duty to the Maker'? She had sold her daughter's future, and if there was ever a decent reason for such a thing, Mara had never heard it. And if she had known she was special, as Faith claimed, then why would she have whored out her daughter's future?

The Templars who had taken her away needn't have feared her anyway. What had she done in her time knowing she was a mage? Fail lessons because she wasn't good enough at magic? Grow plants and stitch up wounds? Many of the things that the other mages chose to do with magic she did with her own two hands, making her own shoes and cooking her own food, mostly because she had no discernible talent with the power that she had been imprisoned because of.

“Mara?” A voice from someone standing over her called, and she sat up abruptly. Over her stood a man in blue robes with dark hair.

Jowan. Her half-brother, and only constant companion in the Circle.

“Hey.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes again, head throbbing.

“Hey.” He said, sitting by her and wrapping an arm around her. “How's it going?” His voice was so casual, as if nothing had happened, even though they were both painfully aware of what had happened, of the danger that had happened last night.

Mara gave a short laugh, closer to a huff, hugging him close. “Oh, you know. Same as usual.” It was rather nice, actually, to have a normal conversation after all that, after everything that had happened. To have life go back to what it once was.

“I'm glad you're alright.” He spoke in a soft voice after a moment. “They carried you in this morning. I... am sorry. I heard your screams as they dragged you off.”

Mara sighed. Of course. It wasn't exactly a lie they could keep up, pretending that she hadn't been dragged away to be forced into batttle. She could feel the genuine sorrow in him, at failing to protect his sister, one of the only things in his life that mattered and put an arm around his shoulders. “Don't worry about it.” She soothed as she sat up. “It's alright. I... understand. There was nothing you could do.” There was nothing anyone could do to guard her from the templars.

He smiled, and tightened his embrace, holding her close, bringing a smile to Mara's face. “So, what happened? Did you win?”

“I...” Mara didn't know how to answer that. On the one hand, she wanted to tell someone, anyone about what had happened, and Jowan was the best person to tell. But on the other, if anyone thought she hadn't killed her challenger, they would immediately think she had been possessed. Even if Jowan didn't tell anyone, this was a dormitory, and if anyone overheard it…

“Jowan, I love you, but I… I don't want to talk about it.” There. That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth, not exactly. She would have to out and lie to Irving, but for someone she loved so much, she couldn't bear to do it.

He nodded. “I understand. Just… just remember that I'm always here for you, okay? If you need to talk about it, I'm… I'm here.”

Her heart fluttered a little at acceptance and love, laying her head on his shoulder. Even if her mother had sold her future, she still had some family left in the world.

But then she sighed, and sat up, smiling weakly at him. “I should go. I think… I think Irving will want to talk to me after that.”

Jowan nodded. “Okay. Listen, I… might need your help with something later. If you can, can you meet me in the Chantry? Something's... happening with me and Lilly.

Mara nodded in turn. “Sure, sure. I'll meet you there soon as a I get a minute.”

Jowan smiled up at her, and left the dormitory room.

* * *

 

After washing her hair and pulling on some half-clean robes, Mara found her way to Irving's office on the second floor from the top.

Inside were Knight-Commander Greagoir and Irving, arguing as per usual. But beside them stood a man she had never seen before, one with dark skin and was wearing heavy steel armour with interlocking plates over a heavy blue coat, with a single steel Griffon on his breastplate.

As she entered, they were already deep in conversation. “-Many have already gone to Ostagar.” It was Greagoir that was speaking. “Wynne, Uldred, and most of our senior mages! We've committed enough our of own to this war effort!”

“Your own?” Irving smiled. “Since when have you felt such kinship with mages, Commander? Or are you just afraid to let the mages out from under the Chantry, where they could put their maker-given powers to good use?”

“How dare you! I-”

“Gentlemen, please.” The armour man interrupted them, and they fell silent. “Irving,” He gestured to Mara. “Someone is here to see you.”

Mara gave a polite nod, feeling the anger in the room. Her empathy let her feel the men: Greagoir was seething mad, although she needed no intuition to see that. Irving was irritable and confused, and this new man was... optimistic, somehow.

“Ah,” Irving smiled at her. “If it isn’t the newest sister to the Circle. Welcome, child.”

The armoured man stepped beside Irving. “This is...?”

“Yes. This is her.”

Greagoir made a move toward the door. “I can see you're busy Irving.” He spat the words out. “We'll talk later.”

“Of course.” He said as Greagoir left the room, leaving it to just the three of them. “Well then... where was I... oh, yes.” He motioned to the man beside him. “I would like to introduce you to Duncan, of the Grey Wardens.”

“A Warden? In the tower?” She asked, impressed. She didn't know much about the Wardens, but knew enough that their presence was always either an honour, or a herald of doom on the horizon. Usually both.

“Wardens go wherever our duty takes us.” Duncan shrugged, and she nodded.

Irving nodded in understanding agreement. “I expect you've heard of a war brewing in the south?” Mara nodded in turn, having heard bits and pieces of it, although not anything coherent. “Duncan is here recruiting mages for the King's Army to join their efforts.”

“Why?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. Typically the outside world tried as best they could to forget that the possibility of mages so much as existing could be real. Not to mention that they deliberately taught mages to never, ever use magic to harm anyone.

Duncan shrugged. “Mages are uniquely equipped to battle Darkspawn.”

“Darkspawn?” She asked, having thought it a war against barbarians or something of the sort. She didn't know much about Darkspawn, other than they were some sort of monster that Grey Wardens fought constantly.

He nodded. “They have formed a horde down south, in the Kocari Wilds and threaten to invade the north.” He shook his head. “I fear what will happen if we don't stop them.”

“Ah,” Irving said, turning back to her. “But we're worrying the poor girl with talk of Darkspawn and Blights. We have a discussion to have, don't we?”

“I'll leave you to it.” Duncan nodded his head, and left, bumping into Mara on the way out and muttering a quick apology.

“So,” Irving motioned for her to sit beside him. “What happened, child? You were thrashing about in your sleep for a long time, and then you just… stopped.”

Mara took a sigh, nodding. What was she to say? She had met with a spirit who protected her from demons and just let her be? That would a ticket to being watched every moment of every day, if not just killed outright for fear of her being possessed.

“I… heard voices in the Fade and I had a feeling of being watched, and followed them and… and came across a demon of despair.” It wasn't a lie, not exactly. Just omitting the truth, and that was the best for both of them.

“And you defeated it?” He asked, and she just nodded. “Very good, child. I had worried about you all night, and it's good to see you survived.”

Mara bowed a little. “Thank you. I won't bother you any longer, First Enchanter, now that I'm safe.”

“Wait,” Irving said, and she stopped herself from standing. “I just wanted to let you know that you are a valued member of our Circle, and that we… we're glad that you're still with us.”

She smiled weakly, not believing a word of it, and stood to leave. Feeling something in her pocket, she reached into it and found a slip of paper. It simply read:

_Meet me in the Library._

* * *

 

Walking uncertainly in the Library, Mara found Duncan sitting alone at the table, a book in his hands. He was no longer wearing his Warden armour, and was simply wearing a tanned Rivaini cloth. She sat opposite him, unsure of herself, and he looked up.

“Ah, hello.” He smiled, setting the book aside. “I'd hoped you would find my note I left for you. Sorry that was a… less than conventional method.”

“That was you?” She asked nervously, tapping her hands. There wasn't a deception to this man, but still… the last time she had listened to a creepy note left for her, she had gotten her throat slit.

“Yeah, sorry.” He chuckled a little meeting her eyes. “After hearing him talk about you, I very much wanted to meet you, but with Irving there, I couldn't think of an easier way to ask you.” He paused a moment, meeting her wary gaze, and nodded. “Irving speaks highly of you.”

“I'm sure he does.” She chuckled derisively. “He's always thought me to be his star protégée.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm not sure _why_. I'm a _terrible_ mage.”

“ Nonsense.” He derived kindly. Wardens kept their mages close, and treasured them. None were more vital in turning the tide against the Darkspawn. Even those who weren't skilled could grow whilst Wardens, and it only took belief.

“You might be surprised.” She said self-derisively, shaking her head slowly.

A belief she didn't have.

“Well, I'm here to recruit for the Grey Wardens, as you heard.” He said, and she nodded. “And I was curious if you might be interested in joining with us?”

“That's probably not a good idea.” Mara looked down and shuffled a foot, vaguely ashamed. “I've...” She didn't meet Duncan's eyes, feeling foolish for this. It was such an unusual, uncomfortable thing that other people surely wouldn't understand. “Never been outside.” It wasn't quite true, she had vague memories of the outside from when she little, but they were like a concussion seen through broken eyes. Faint, almost non-existent. As if they could have been the single greatest dream of her life. Her only coherent memory was her mother abandoning her.

“Oh.” For a moment the awkward silence was consuming, and then she looked up and he gave a reassuring smile. “Well, I'm sure a lot of other mages within our ranks haven't either, and I would ask that you at least think on it. Irving speaks so highly of you, it would be a shame just to let you sit in this tower for the rest of your life.”

“Okay,” She said, leaning forward. “I doubt you want me in your army, but I'll hear you out.” That seemed at least fair, to hear him after he went through the trouble to meet with her and he seemed a nice man. “What do you do?”

Duncan thought a moment, and then he spoke. “Our duty is to battle Darkspawn wherever they may arise, whenever they choose to appear. We are... elves, humans, dwarves, all united by a single common purpose.”

“What is a Darkspawn, exactly?” She had heard passing mentions of them in her history books, and had heard the word earlier, but never a clear description, considering how the Chantry had purged Warden records from the Circle.

Again, he thought for a minute. It has always been clear to him what they were, but he had fought them the majority of his life. How did you explain air to someone who breathed water? It was much the same.

“Well...” He talked slowly, each pause in the word giving him a moment to think on his answer that she was patiently awaiting. “It is a... monstrous beast, a corrupted being made form the sentient people of Thedas.” He paused, reflecting. “They are a single-minded people, with only a single instinct: To create Blights.”

“Blights?” Again, it seemed frustratingly, impossibly out of the way. There were the faintest mentions of them, information that was so critical to Thedas' past, and yet the templars had discarded it entirely to keep the ideal of the Wardens from the mages.

Duncan didn't speak for minutes, thinking on how it was to be explained to someone with such a limited extent of knowledge on something so natural to him.

“It's... an apocalypse, of sorts.” He said finally. “The Darkspawn awaken, and corrupt, a dragon with their own essence, making it into a Darkspawn itself.” His voice was solemn, thoughtful and deep in contemplation. “The beast then leads ever last of the other Darkspawn to war with the surface, and they seek to eradicate the people of Thedas. We Wardens are the ones who stop them whenever that happens.”

Mara leaned in closer, enthralled with the tales of a world she would never know. “Why do they try to kill everyone?”

Duncan shrugged. “I don't know. They don't  _think_ , not exactly. There's just this... singular feral drive  that they have  to cause Blights, kill us all.” He paused a moment. “The Chantry, the dwarves and the Dalish all have different explanations of their origins, of their way of thinking. All I care about is stopping them, regardless of why they act.”

The two of them continued to talk well through the mornin g, discussing Darkspawn, the Chantry and whatever came from their thoughts and words.

And as he spoke of his adventures, of the Grey Wardens and Darkspawn, of Blights and war, a love awoke in Mara's heart. Not a love of him, or of the Wardens, but rather one of the world she had never seen. There was a love of beautiful things made by kind men, of Orlesian balls in the winter, of flowing and shining rivers in the sun's final glow of summer.

And that love awoke a wanderer's heart. How amazing it would be to go and see the great mountains of the west! To dance in a field of wheat and smell an autumn harvest's breeze! To cast down her staff, and carry a sword instead. Oh, but to explore the world, to see cities with more people than she could have dreamt in her wildest fantasies. She looked out the window and saw the stars above them in a blued nebula in an endless mottled plane of darkness, and she thought of the jewels of the dwarven kingdoms and all the coin in a dragon's hoard.

If only.

But then reality returned. She wasn't a Grey Warden, and this was no fantasy. She was a prisoner who would spend the rest of her life here, and what they were discussing was an apocalypse where hundreds of thousands of men and women died, and of death and sickness.

“That sounds...” She paused, finding the words. “I wish I could go out with you, see that world.” Her voice was tired, longing. Long she had locked away the heart of a wanderer, because of how she had been born. She wished to leave, and see the world. But she was locked up here, trapped in her own private hell. Perhaps there were content apprentices in kinder circles, but she was not one of them. The whole of the place was her waking nightmare.

A nd those words encouraged Duncan. He needed Wardens, and Mara deeply desired to leave, not to mention that he saw the raw potential in this young woman, even if she herself didn't. “Do you want to come with me?”

Mara closed her eyes slowly, thinking deeply. She did. Maker above, but she did. But she wasn't any good at magic. She couldn't help them.

“Yes” She admitted. “But I don't know what I could do to help you. Do you have ponies that need shoeing? Wounds that go beyond stitches and elfroot?”

Duncan shrugged. “ We can use you. We'll find a place for you, if you want it.”

Mara thought for a minute, and then shook her head slowly. “I do.” She admitted. “But I...  can't help you. I'm not a good enough mage to stop any Darkspawn, or save any wounded.” It hurt to say, but it was true. The Wardens had to be the best of the best  to stop the world from ending , and they had no place for her, whatever he said.  Mara stood. “I'm sorry.”

A t that, she turned and left, dejected. She hadn't intended to want what he suggested, merely to listen and give a polite no. There was no place for her out there, for someone who was as useless at everything as her. She simply left, remembering that Jowan had asked to meet her this morning. She would have to blame it on Irving's long winded nature.

And as she left, Duncan smiled. Mara would make an excellent Warden. All she needed was a little push to prove to herself that she was worth something.

All he needed now to figure out how to convince Irving to release her.

* * *

 

The doors to the simple Chantry of the Circle were massive and made of heavy oaken wood. Inside was completely deserted, except for Jowan and a priestess named Lily standing together, talking in one of the alcoves.

“Where were you?” Jowan asked in disbelief as Mara approached, sullen and sulking, still dejected from having gotten her foolish hopes up during her talk with Duncan.

“You know Irving.” She waved her hand, and nothing more was spoken on it.

“You've met Lily, before.” She nodded. She and Jowan were together, something that brought a smile to get face. She was the only one who knew. That was the most forbidden, taboo things she could think of. The Chantry forbid mages from getting together with... anyone. Let alone one of their own. If word got to the templars...

“I can't believe you two haven't been caught.” She laughed a little. “I had to lie to that Templar, Cullen, last week about where you two were.”

Jowan nodded a moment, breathing hard. “Listen to me: The three of us, we have to get out of here. We have to escape.” He looked up at her, utter dread in his eyes. “They're going to make me Tranquil.”

“Tranquil?” She cried out in disbelief. Tranquillity was only ever given to those who willing gave themselves to the rite and to those who practised forbidden magic. “Jowan, that's crazy.”

Lily shook her head. “I saw the paper on Greagoir's desk this morning, after you went to see Irving. It authorised the Rite of Tranquillity on Jowan, and the First Enchanter had signed it.”

For a moment, Mara didn't believe it. What reason could they have for it? That wasn't just something that the templars did on a whim to prove their power. They had to be wrong about this, or there had to be more than they were telling her. She had no love for the templars, but that wasn't what they did.

“What reason would they have for doing this?” She whispered grimly.

Jowan thought a moment, hanging his head in shame. “They think that I'm...” He bit his lip before he spoke it, as if uttering the single worst word in the world. “A blood mage.” He shook his head. “It's probably because I've been... distant, and hiding in the distance, slinking away from lessons and at night to come up here to see Lily.”

Tears were gathered by the edge of Jowan's eyes, and she threw her arms around him in a comforting hug. “It will be okay.” She reassured. She didn't believe she had the whole of the story, but it didn't matter, at least for the moment.

“No it won't!” He shrieked. “They'll take everything from me! My hopes, my dreams, my love for Lily! I'll just be a... husk! Existing and breathing, but not living!”

And Mara felt his fear, and it shivered through her in a symbiotic emotion. That was the doubled knife of pure empathy: She could feel and experience whatever the other did. And right now she felt as terrified as him.

“What can I do to help?”

“We need to escape.” Said Lily.

Jowan nodded. “If we can destroy my phylactery, they can't follow us.” Their eyes met, and her heart sunk further. “But we can't do it alone. Please.”

Of course. Phylacteries were vials of blood that they used to hunt any run-away mages. If Jowan's and Mara's could be destroyed...

“Of course I will.” Mara nodded. “What do we need to do?”

“I can get us into the repository.” Lily offered. “But I need a rod of fire to get through one of the locks on the doors.”

“And they don't give them to priests.” Mara finished, and Lily nodded. “Alright. Is that all you need?” Lily nodded again. “Then I'll be back.”

“Thank you.” Jowan hugged her again before she left. “Thank you so much.”

And with that she turned and left. Owain at the stockrooms would have rods of fire, but she had something to do first.

She began for the First Enchanter's office.

Irving looked up from his desk when he saw her enter, and gave Mara a smile.

“First Enchanter.” She said curtly with a tiny bow. “Do you have a moment?” Irving nodded, and she returned his smile before sitting across from him.

“I trust you saw Duncan back to his quarters?” Asked Irving, and Mara nodded in turn. “Good. Then what was it you needed, child?”

She thought a moment on how to phrase it, and then leaned forward. “One of my fellow apprentices, Jowan, fears he will be made tranquil, and there are... dark rumours of that as well.” She tried to continue speaking, but Irving held up a hand to quiet her, and she fell silent.

“And how does he know this?” She didn't have an answer. “I suppose that young initiate he dallies with revealed it to him.” Mara raised a curious eyebrow, thinking that if he knew their secret that he would have stopped them from seeing one another by now. Irving chuckled a little. “I didn't become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut.”

“So it's true?” Mara asked in disbelief. Surely it couldn't be! There was no way in the world that Irving would allow such a thing.

“I am afraid it is.”

Her heart sank at that. So it was true. He would make her friend into a ghoulish husk. “Why?”

He sighed and glanced down, not daring to meet her gaze. “Greagoir says he has proof, and eyewitness testimony, that Jowan has been praising Blood Magic. I... can say no more.”

Forbidden magic? Blood Magic? That involved deals with demons, something Jowan wouldn't the spine to do. No... that couldn't be true. If Irving had seen it, perhaps she would believe, but Greagoir... no. It was a lie. But that didn't matter. They would perform it on him regardless.

“I'm sorry, child.”

Mara shook her head sadly. “I understand.” And then she looked up, meeting his eyes. “There was something else I needed, if you don't mind me changing the subject.”

“Of course not.” Irving almost laughed, relieved that she accepted it so readily and eager to discuss another topic. “What is it?”

“Do you have a spare request form for a rod of fire?”

* * *

 

“Come on!” Mara shouted, and they ran inside the newly opened room together.

They looked around desperately for Jowan's, but the room was decorated with entire shelves filled with dozens of the vials of blood.

Then she saw it. Laid out on a table, specially marked for the rite of Tranquillity, was Jowan's phylactery.

“Jowan!” She shouted, picking it up. He turned and she threw it to him. He caught it midair, and looked it over.

“I can't believe that this tiny thing is all that stands between me and freedom.” He whispered as he swished around the blood inside. “So small. So fragile. So easy to end it's hold over me.” And with that, he dropped it, shattering on the ground.

And as he spoke, Mara found her own and shattered it. “Come on.” she motioned and they started for the exit. “Let's go.”

“I don't want to stay here a moment longer.” Lily agreed, and they left.

As they went back the way they came, Mara laid the templar's shield back beside him. To lose the sunburst shield was a high disgrace among templars, and she didn't want to get him in trouble. With that they headed to and opened the door to the basement level they had entered through in the first place.

“Oh, shite.

As they exited into the tower's first floor, they found themselves surrounded.

Around them was a dozen or more templars, headed by First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir.

“So what you said was true, Irving.” Said Greagoir, his voice grim and serious. “I was hoping we were wrong. All of us.”

“G-Greagoir.” Lily stammered as Mara hung her head. This wasn't quite all of the templars in the Circle tower, they were missing a good half-dozen, Cullen included, but it was more than enough that they would have no chance of escape now. They would be taken and executed for this, she was certain.

“An initiate.” Greagoir shook his head in frustration. “Conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed.” He stepped forward, inspecting her face. “She seems shocked, but fully in control of her mind.” A moment later, he nodded. “Not a thrall of the blood mage, then.” Then he took several steps back, not taking his eyes off of the group, but he turned just slightly towards Irving. “You were right. She has betrayed us, and the Circle will not let this go unpunished.”

Irving sighed wearily at Mara. “I'm disappointed in you.” She could feel the anger being buried under frustration. “You could have told us what you knew of this plan when you came to see me, and yet you didn't.”

And that tore it. The empathy carried the emotion both ways, and she knew how what she was feeling wasn't entirely her own. But the frustration and resentment in Irving coupled with her own hatred of the Circle, and she snapped.

“ **Well what the hell did you expect**?!” She shrieked, looking up and meeting his eyes. “ **You tore me from my home and take me across the seas to another country so I could live the rest of my life in this hell**!” She had never yelled so loudly in her life, but she had never felt so furious before either. “I accept that you'll kill me for this.” Now she was seething, filled with hatred that was entirely not herself. “And go ahead. I would rather you burn me alive than force me to live another second in this prison.”

“You don't care anything for the mages!” Jowan chimed in, stepping forward. “You're just an arm of the Chantry, weak and spineless!”

“ **Enough**!” Screamed Greagoir,  brandishing his blade, and the rest of the assembled templars followed suit. “As commander of the templars under this tower, I sentence this blood mage and his... associate here, to death by beheading.” He gestured his blade at Lily. “And his initiate to a lifetime in Aeonar.”

Mara nodded her head in grim resignedness as the templars closed in, but Lily slinked back. “Th... the mages prison?” She cried. “Please! Please no!”

“No!” Jowan shouted, brandishing a knife from his belt. “I won't let you touch her!” And with that he plunged his knife deep into his hand, blood pouring from the palm. Then it glowed in a flash of power and it lashed over, overpowering all of the templars gathered in front of them.

“By the Maker!” Lily shouted in terror, shivering running through her as she cowered away. “Blood magic.” She felt like such an idiot, such a fool. He had lied to them both, and she had believed every word. “H-how could you?! You said that you never...”

Jowan held his hands up defensively. “I admit, I-I dabbled.” His voice was strained, and he too was terrified. “I thought it would make me a better mage, help us escape!”

“Blood magic is evil.” Lily hissed. “It corrupts people... changes them...” Now she was hurt beyond all belief. He had lied to her, and for what? The tiniest bit of power?

“I'll give it up!” He promised, stepping towards her, but Lily backed away in fear. “All magic. I-I just wanted to be with you!”

She thought only a moment before she shook her head with ferocity. “I... I trusted you. I was willing to turn my back on all of my life for you.” Then she motioned away. “Get out of my sight,  _ blood mage _ .”

He turned to Mara for support, who was tending to the injuries of the First Enchanter. She had been seriously tempted to run away after Jowan's display of power, but then had realized how stupid and irresponsible that was. He was a blood mage. He had betrayed them, and she wouldn't let anyone, not even her captors, die for that mistake.

Seeing and feeling the weight of his decisions, Jowan made a decision.

He ran.

A moment later, Irving stuck his head up, and found her sitting beside him. “Are you alright?” He croaked, all anger gone. “Where is Greagoir?”

The knight-commander stood in response, dusting himself off. They were all in pain after the display of power completely overwhelming even their templar training. “I knew it.” Cursed Greagoir. “Blood magic. But to overcome so many...”

Mara sighed, and hung her head. He had weaved his story, and she had simply swallowed it whole. He had used her hatred of the Circle to trick her, and now she was here, to be killed alone.

“I'm sorry.” She didn't know to whom she was apologizing. To Irving, for not trusting him. To Lily and the templars for hurting them. To Jowan himself for not being able to help him.

She helped Irving up, and Greagoir approached the pair. “This is all your fault.” His voice was angry, in a hiss. “If you had let me act sooner, none of this would have happened!” Irving began to protest, but the templar moved on, facing Lily. “And you! You took vows of the Chantry, and yet you helped him! Look at all he's hurt!”

“She didn't know anything about this!” Mara defended, but Lily help up a hand.

“You've been a friend.” Her voice was shocked, and distant. “But you needn't project me any longer.” She sighed and met Greagoir's eyes. “I know what I did was wrong, and... I will go with you. Whatever punishment you see fit.”

Greagoir gestured, and the templars took her away. Then he turned to Mara. “And you. I hereb-”

“Knight-commander!” The voice was new, and they all turned to see it. It was Duncan, dressed in his Warden armour. “If I may, I'm not just here to recruit for the king's army.” He fixed Greagoir with such a fierce gaze that even the highly-experienced templar backed away. “I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens.” They all turned to Duncan, with Mara's mouth agape. She knew what was coming, and couldn't believe it.

“Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would have her join the Warden's ranks.”

“What?!” Greagoir shouted in anger, anger that flowed through to her, but she swallowed it down. It wasn't her emotion, it didn't belong to her, and couldn't hurt her.

“Duncan,” Irving warned. “This mage has assisted a maleficar, and shown a lack of regard for the Circle's rules.”

“She is a danger!” Greagoir insisted. “To _all_ of us!”

Duncan smiled. That was true, which was exactly why he needed her. She was more dangerous than she thought, but there was a kind heart in her that would give her strength to bear the weight of a Warden's responsibilities. “It is a rare person who risks everything they have when a friend is in need.” And then he nodded. “I stand by my decision: I hereby conscript Circle mage Marilina Amell, and take full responsibility for her actions.”

“ **No**!” Screamed Greagoir, drawing his sword. “I refuse to let this stand! I will not let a blood mage escape, and then reward his accomplice!”

“Hush.” Irving said, nodding at Mara sadly. “We have no more say in this. The right of conscription allows the Wardens to recruit anyone and everyone they please, regardless of their standing or occupation. We cannot stop him.”

Mara turned to Duncan. “Are you sure?” She asked in spite of the heart full of hope that she had. “I can't do much for the Wardens. You know that.”

Duncan gave an amused smile at her. “Perhaps the horses need shoeing.” And she laughed at that, nervous and terrified, but still with genuine mirth.

Then Mara turned to face Irving. “Farewell, First Enchanter.” Then she lay a hand on his shoulder. “I always hated it here, but I'm glad to have known you.” Irving nodded sadly, and she returned in kind. And then she turned to Duncan. “Alright, then.” She almost didn't want to leave now, but it was death to stay. There was nothing left here for her. “Let's go.”

“Do you have anything to take?” Duncan asked with a raised eyebrow, but Mara shook her head. She had her staff in her hands, and her mother's wedding ring around her finger. She owned nothing else in the whole of the world.

“Then let us go to your new life.”


	3. Eluvian

A stag's ears pulled back as a noise rustled in the underbrush of the forest. Moments later, it bolted from it's position as a farmer ran as fast as his legs would carry him, over thick foiliage and past running animals, careful not to head towards the river. He couldn't swim, and that _thing_ would catch him. He only hoped that the others were behind him, but he didn't dare look, didn't slow. If they were dead... there was nothing he could do, not against it. 

Very suddenly, he found himself face to face with an elf that had a tattooed face and a longbow. 

That was pointed right at him. 

He jumped back, losing his balance and falling on the ground. Two other men, his friends who had accompanied him to the forest, came to a sudden stop, startled by the same elven archer. 

“It's a Dalish!” He cried out in absolute terror, not figuring how this day could get any worse. 

“And you three,” The hunter pointed the drawn arrow at all three of them, one by one. Menace dripped from his voice in a curl of the lip, and none of them doubted that he would kill them in a moment if the whim so much as struck him. “Are somewhere you shouldn't be.”

“Let us pass, elf!” One of the humans, the fat one that resembled a pig, shouted, demanding. “You have no right to stop us from passing.”

“No?” His lips twisted into an amused smile. “We shall see about that, won't we?" 

As he spoke, another elf came out from hiding behind a tree, holding an intricately carved bow in her hands. She had a dusty leather jacket, light brown hair cut down to her ears, and the same intricate, elegant tattoos on her face that her companion did. Hers, however, traced from her cheekbones to her forehead, looking like tree-branches blowing in the wind, entwining where they met at her brow. 

“You're just in time.” He said to her in a familiar tone, although his voice was still domineering and coarse, leaving them terrified. “I found these... _humans_ lurking in the bushes. Bandits, not doubt.” 

“We aren't bandits!” The farmer insisted, stepping back. “I swear!” He swallowed hard, tension holding the air before he spoke again. “P-please don't hurt us.” 

The hunter woman laughed. “You shem'len are pathetic.” She shook her head in disgust, poison on her lips. She hated humans with all of her heart and soul after what they had done to her mother, and she would readily release an arrow into their heads. Especially one for the fat one. How long would it take for the pig to be bled dry? “I can't believe that you ever drove us from our homeland.” 

“We-we've never done nothing to you Dalish.” The Farmer insisted, holding up his hands as he stood. “We didn't know this forest was yours, I swear.” 

“This forest isn't _ours_.” The hunter sneered at him in disgust. “One cannot _own_ a forest. You've simply stumbled too close to our camp. You shem are like vermin... we can't trust you to not make trouble.” He turned to his companion, expression softening when he saw her.”What about you, vhenan? What do we do with them?” 

“What are you doing here?” She asked them, not loosening the draw on her bow, nor lessening the menace in her eyes.

The man turned to her. “Does it matter?” He hissed. “Hunting or banditry, we'll have to move the camp if we let them loose.” 

She ignored him. “What are you doing here?” She repeated. 

“L-look.” One of them stammered. “We're not here to cause trouble. We just found a cave...” 

“Yes!” Another said as if inspiration had just hit. “We-we found a cave. With ruins like you've never seen before in your life! We thought there might be... uh...” 

“Treasure.” The hunter man finished. “So you're more akin to thieves than bandits.”

“We know this forest.” The woman spoke up. “There are caves, but no ruins. You're lying.” Her voice was cold and careful, every word measured. 

The farmer took a tiny step forward, holding something in his hands out. “I-I-I have proof.” He held it out, and the bowman took the draw off of his weapon, while the woman kept hers drawn all the way back. “Here.” He offered it to the other man, who took it. “We found this just inside of the entrance.” 

The hunter took a moment to look it over, not showing his hunting companion who still had her eyes locked on the farmer. “This stone...” He spoke after a moment. “It has carvings. Is this... elvish? _Written_ elvish?” 

She almost lost the draw on her bow at that. Written elvish? There was none from before the loss of their homeland existed. At least, that was what the Keeper said. 

“T-there's more in the ruins.” The farmer said, motioning over his shoulder. “We didn't get very far in, though...” 

“Why?” She demanded. 

“There was a demon!” One of the other three cried out. “It was huge, taller than all three of us together, with huge black eyes!” He shook his head. “Thank the maker we could outrun it.” 

The hunter scoffed. “A demon?” He didn't believe that for a moment. Demons were the work of mages and careless shem'len. None would live around here, surely. “Where is this cave?” He demanded, slipping the carving in his pocket. 

“Just off to the west.” He motioned in the direction they had run from. “T-there's a cave in the rock face, and a huge hole just inside.” 

The hunter nodded, believing them. “What do you think?” He asked his companion. “Do we let them go?” 

“No.” She commanded, and the men all tensed up, terrified out of their minds. “They gave us what they found, and don't seem to mean us any harm.” She nodded her head towards them. “Kill one. The others won't tell anyone, will they?” They all glanced at each other, trembling, and nodded. “Creators!” She hissed in absolute disgust. “You'd turn on one another, just for that?” Now they looked even more scared. “You shems are filthy.” It had been a test. If they had stood up to her, they could have all gone home. But now, she would live up to her terms. 

She released the string on her longbow. 

The arrow soared through the air, and hit the fat pig of a man, piercing through his throat. His eyes bulged like a choked deer, before he fell over, bleeding out even as she shouldered her bow. 

“Go.” She commanded. “And don't come back until we Dalish have moved on, or there will be a reckoning for you, got it?” The two remaining nodded. “Then get out of my sight before I change my mind.” 

They ran away, and the two hunters, the man named Tamlen and the woman named Luna, turned to face one another. 

“Well,” Tamlen smiled at her. “Shall we see if there is any merit to their story?” He held out the carving to her, and she took it, inspecting it. It was very clearly ancient elvish writing, but most of the words were gibberish, garbage... unless they were words that time had forgotten. “This has me curious.” 

“Shouldn't we inform the Keeper?” She asked, looking up. They were hunters, sent out for meat and hide, occasionally to scare off any people who could be of danger. The Keeper, Marethari, and her first, Merrill, were the only ones who knew anything of magic or demons.

“She would be interested in the carvings.” Tamlen admitted. “But let's see if there's anything else before we get excited.” He shrugged. “Besides, we're already here, and I don't want to lose my sense of direction.” 

* * *

Jumping through the trees and running their way through the foliage, they quickly found the rock cliff the human had mentioned and, sure enough, there was a hold in the mountain that led to a structure they had never seen before, not in all of their time scouting this forest. 

“This must be the cave.” Tamlen stated, looking over the overgrowth of the entrance. “Strange. I can't recall seeing this before, do you?” Luna shook her head. 

“No, I don't, and that worries me.” 

“Always the careful one.” He smiled at her. “Fine, but I'm not running back until I know that there's something worth making a fuss about, alright?” She nodded in agreement. That seemed only fair. He turned back to the overgrowth. “Come on, let's at least see what's inside.” He smiled at her again. “How dangerous could it be?” 

“Oh, now you've done it, you stupid, stupid man.” She chuckled, and entered the cave. 

Inside was a surprisingly sound structure, make of stone bricks hauled into symbiotic location where they could support one another, making it stronger than any building either of them had ever been in before, although that meant little to people from a nomadic elf tribe. And, sure enough, there were elven glyphs and runes on the walls, just as the farmer had promised. 

“It... looks like the shem was telling the truth.” Tamlen murmured in awe as he looked around. “But this stone work, the way the building is made... looks more human than elven.” 

Luna nodded. “It makes me nervous, honestly. This place... wasn't here before. We came by that mountain a dozen times or more during our scouting missions, and never saw it.” She cocked her head to the side. “What do you think it means, Vhenan?” 

He smiled at the term of endearment form her, and turned to look at the carvings so that she couldn't see his blush, but it spread to the tips of his ears, and she could see it. “Well... I don't know.” He smiled. “This looks like a very old human structure, maybe some sort of subterranean fortress.” He shook his head. “Why did they build this? And why would elven artefacts be here?” He shrugged. “Maybe our ancestors lived here once, in caves like the dwarves.” He laughed. “I'll stick to the forest, myself.” 

“Do you think we should bring the Keeper here?” She asked, feeling far under-qualified to be here, in such a place of magic and ancient history, neither of which she knew the first thing about.

“I'm sure she would.” He smiled. “But I think it's dangerous down here. That demon that they mentioned makes me worried, just a little. Let's explore, see if it's dangerous before we sent our only leader down here.” He turned to the rest of the ruins and started walking for a moment before turning back. “Hey, weren't you supposed to be helping Master Ilen today? Why are you down here with me?” 

She smiled sweetly at him, giving a tiny blush. “I wanted to be with you, my heart.” 

He blushed, and this time she saw the whole of it. “I-I thought that might be the case.” He stammered, and she thought it was just _adorable_. “I'm glad.” 

And then she approached with that same sweet, loving smile, standing on her toes and kissing him. They had a task to do, and this place likely wasn't safe, but that didn't matter right now. It was too tempting, _he_ was too tempting. 

“Come on.” Luna insisted after what felt like forever, holding her hand out, which he gladly took in his own. “Before we get too distracted from our task.” 

At the end of the stairwell they were in was a heavy wooden door. By all rights, it looked as if it should have fallen into disrepair many years ago, the iron rails and reinforced plates should have rusted and the wooden eaten away. But it was in perfect condition. It even smelled new, as if it had just been finished being sanded. 

“I don't like this.” Luna whispered, brushing her hand onto the door to ensure that it was real. It most certainly was, freshly made. “This place just gets stranger and stranger, Vhenan.” 

“Come on.” He said warmly, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her warmth. “The sooner we look around, the sooner we can leave.” 

She nodded, and pulled open the freshly polished doorknob, and entered the chamber. 

The next room made it very evident that the stairwell had been just that: A stairwell, simple and only meant to be practical. This room was _extravagant_ , and it's ceiling was taller than ten of Luna stacked ontop of one another, the floors polished and paved. 

“Wow.” She whispered in awe. “This is... incredible.” 

“Amazing.” Tamlen agreed.

“And creepy. Eerie.” 

They walked in very slowly, hands on their bows. Something about this place felt... wrong. Unnatural. How was it in such perfect condition after all that had clearly happened to it. Even if it looked worse than it was, this place had to be thousands of years old, it still looked perfect. It was like being in a model city, where everything was perfectly kept but no people lived, silent and dark. 

There were many doors in this place, but at the end of this room was a gigantic one, grand and tall as the ceiling. “Let's investigate that one.” She said quietly, and Tamlen nodded in understanding.

Nothing moved except for them. No noise sounded except their footsteps. They couldn't even hear their own breath. 

It took both of their strength to open even a single one of the two doors, using the whole of their body weight and strength to force it open a little, just enough for a single elf to enter, one after another. 

Inside was a monstrous and somehow elegant monument of concrete and marble built around a single, blue mirror, with elven script engraved around it's frame and onto the stone around it. 

“Gods above.” Luna whispered in utter awe, looking at it's azure surface. “It's amazing.” 

“It's so beautiful.” Tamlen agreed, approaching it, both of them utterly entranced by it. “I wonder what this writing says.” 

“Maybe the Keeper could translate it.” She offered, not taking her eyes off of it's beauty. It was... unnatural, but she couldn't look away... 

Tamlen approached it, looking into it's surface. “I hope I don't break it.” He murmured. “I wonder what these words mean. It's elven alright, but the words are... nonsense. I don't recognize them, and I-” He cut off abruptly, looking into the surface. “Did you see that?” 

Luna stepped beside her, but she couldn't see anything, even though she remained in awe of it's beauty, unable to look away. “I didn't.” 

“I think something moved inside of it.” 

“Tamlen.” A cold, clammy realization struck her, and she somehow looked away from it, although she feel the immediate need to look back at it. Some strength given to her by the gods above had given her clear thought, and she realized they were doing. “Tamlen, sweetie. We-we have to go. Back away from it.” Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. This mirror wasn't of this world, it couldn't be. 

“Hold on.” He hissed at her, angrier than he should have been. “I just want to know what it is.” He paused, looking deeply into it, absorbed in it more than he was for her words. It had already consumed him, and she grasped him, shaking his shoulders desperately. “There it is again.” His voice was cold, monotone, completely infatuated. 

“Tamlen!” She yelled, begging, scared out of her mind now. Something unnatural was going on, and they had to leave, now. If this place would even let them leave. But he didn't listen. He stepped closer, and touched a hand to the surface, and it glowed around his glove. “ **Tamlen**!” She was on the verge of tears. Where was the man who loved her?

“It's... showing me places.” He whispered in awe. “A dark city... somewhere... not of here...” Then he recoiled, jumping back, but his hand was stuck. “It saw me!” He shrieked hysterically, frantically trying to pull away. “It saw me!” She ran to him, desperately trying to pull him back, but he was stuck to the mirror's surface. “Vhenan!” He shrieked, unable to tear his gaze away from it. “Help me!” 

She thought frantically, unable to rip him away. He screamed and a thought jumped to her. The Keeper wouldn't like this, but it was between her promised one and stupid mirror. She ripped the hunting saxe knife from her belt, and lunged at the mirror, driving it down and breaking it into a thousand pieces. 

And as it did, it exploded in magical energy. The world turned white, and then darkness fell.


	4. Halam'shivanas

Eventually the world began to swim back into her eyes. At first it was a dull white that blurred and blocked everything in it's path. Then it gave way to the world above her. A wooden roof above... a hard floor underneath... 

She was in an aravel, one of the Dalish wagons. 

But where... where was Tamlen? 

Luna stood slowly, feeling resistance in her knees, grasping at the handles of the cabinet above to pull herself up and not fall. Her leg was utterly dead asleep and every nerve was waking up one by one. 

Minutes later, the dull agony began to fade except for the pounding of blood behind her eyes and the migraine pulsing in her skull. Creators above, but what had happened? 

She pulled her old, worn and tattered leather jacket off from the hook upon the wall, slipping it on over her bandages that were wrapped around her chest, and grabbed her bow and quiver from where they lay. 

Edging open the door to the outside, Luna winced as the sunlight poured in. She must have been in here for some time, for light to be so foreign. It hurt, burning out from the horizon as her eyes adjusted to it. 

One of the hunters, Fenarel, noticed her form leaning out from the door, barely able to stand, and approached her. “You're awake!” He sounded shocked and impressed. “You've the gods' own luck, Lethallin.” 

“Please,” She motioned quietly. “Keep your voice down, Lethallan. There were hammers pounding in her head and noise _hurt_. As did light. What was so wrong with her, that everything caused pain? “Where am I?” 

“You're back in camp.” His voice was now measured and quiet, careful not to disturb her as he realized how much pain she must be in after so much time unconscious. “Everyone's been worried sick about you for days. How do you feel?” 

“Fine.” She almost spat out the word as it was useless, unneeded. It didn't matter how she felt, not until she knew. “Where is Tamlen?” 

“We don't know.” He apologized with a shrug, worried more than ever about her. Every last person in camp knew how close the two of them were, and how much it would hurt her if anything happened to the other hunter, to her promised one. “The Shem who brought you here said he had seen no sign of him.” 

Luna raised her head to meet his gaze, raising a single eyebrow. “What? A human brought me here?” 

Fenarel nodded. “A shem brought you back two days ago. You don't remember?” Granted, she had been completely unconscious when he had brought her back, and hadn't been awake in any coherent fashion since then, but he had thought that she would have seen him as he dragged her out of wherever it was he had described. 

Panic began to pound louder than the pain in her head, and Luna pushed herself off of the post where she had been leaning, stepping closer. “I've been here two days?!” She shouted, worsening her own headache, scared now. She felt as though she'd been out for a few hours at most, like a deep sleep. If it had been that long... 

Fenarel stepped back when she shouted, and nodded, unsure of what to do with the fear in her eyes. She was typically so composed that it was almost scary to see her panic. “He was a Grey Warden, wearing that blue and white armour. He appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder.” He swallowed hard as the words settled on Luna, causing her to look away. “You were delirious were fever. He said that he found you outside of a cave in the forest, alone and unconscious.” 

For a moment, the words didn't take fully, and then anger flared up. “Fen'harel's teeth!” She swore with a hiss, and then pushed past Fenarel. “Excuse me.” She had to go and talk to the Keeper. 

Keeper Marethari was standing where she usually did, tending to the books on her table. Luna was arbitrarily angry, for what ever reason she couldn't place. She had been found alone, missing her second half, and no one had looked for him. They had just let a shem waltz into camp and leave without so much as a mention for her fiancée. 

“Keeper.” 

Marethari turned at the unexpected voice and smiled widely at Luna, utterly relieved. She had thought the young woman would never awaken from the comatose state that Warden had found her in. 

“You're awake, Da'len!” Marethari's eyes crinkled upwards in a kind smile, but was met by an icy glare from the huntress. “I don't know what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you.” She shook her head sadly. “It's fortunate that Blackwall found you when he did.” 

Fear crept up through her veins. What was that mirror? What had it done to her? More importantly, what had it done to Tamlen? If it had nearly killed her while under the constant care of her clan... 

“Blackwall said that he thought that there might be Darkspawn in the caves. Is that true?” 

Luna shook her head, utterly confused. Why the Keeper was listening to a shem'len was beyond her, particularly when one of the clan was missing. But they trusted the Keepers to guide the clan, so she would humour Marethari. 

“I have no idea. What does a Darkspawn look like?” 

Marethari thought a moment, unsure of how to describe such a thing to someone who had never seen one. They were monsters that had to be experienced first hand to know what they were. “Like a man...” She said slowly. “But... dark and tainted with evil. Perhaps you fought one in the caves and it wounded you?” 

“No.” Luna shook her head. “It was a mirror. Tamlen touched it and it exploded, knocking me unconscious.” 

“A mirror?” Asked Marethari. “And it caused all of this? I've never heard of such a thing in all of the lore we have collected.” She sighed, looking away as she thought. “I was hoping that you would hold more answers when you awoke, but it seems we have only more questions. And Tamlen remains missing. He is more important than anything in those ruins, and if his condition was as severe as yours...” 

“I'll look for him.” It wasn't an offer or a question. “I'll go back, and I'll find him. I'm still alive and he will be too.” At least, she desperately hoped so. Without him, she'd be nothing. Just a walking husk, without her heart. 

“I'm relieved to hear it.” Said Marethari. “I'm ordering the clan to pack up so we can move north. Take Merrill with you to the cave, and find Tamlen if you can.” 

Luna nodded and left, feeling her knife belt still around her waist and her bow across her back. Merrill was Marethari's first, her apprentice, and she knew how to work magic. Between the two of them, no mirror would stop them. 

Around the corner was the first, studying books just like the Keeper. Merrill was a tiny elven girl with gigantic emerald green eyes. She wore no shoes, instead electing for bare feet with leather pants and a fur shirt, coupled with chainmail atop. 

Merrill smiled when she saw her friend, throwing her arms around the huntress. “Lethallin! You're awake!” She cried, having been worried sick. Luna was her only friend in the whole of the world, and she hadn't stopped pray for her for days. 

In spite of herself, Luna smiled. Merrill was adorable, and worried far too much. “Yes, lethallin. I'm here.” Then she pulled back and Merrill looked up. “But we don't have time for a reunion. I'm headed back to the caves, and Marethari asked you to come with me.” 

Merrill nodded, and grabbed her staff, Vir Tasallan, from the table. The Keeper was likely sending her to investigate whatever these ruins were, but she knew why Luna was going and they wouldn't let Tamlen down. She didn't have high hopes, seeing as how she and Marethari had been constantly caring for Luna and she barely made it. If Tamlen had no care, she wasn't optimistic. But Luna needed to at least know his fate, and Merrill would help her find that. 

“You're doing a brave thing, lethaliin.” 

* * *

Luna held up a hand and Merrill stopped. 

“What is it?” 

But Luna didn't respond. A moment later she lunged at Merrill, tackling her to the ground. Just in time for a crossbow bolt to pass harmlessly over where the first had been only moments earlier. Luna glanced up. There were two, three monsters standing there, crossbows in hand. With no time for any further investigation on who had fired, she rolled off of Merrill and onto her feet, deftly drawing her bow from her back.

With a breath, she drew it back. The strong joints of elves allowed her to wield a draw string much heavier than anything a human could carry and that was evident when the arrow was loosed. It barely fell to gravity on it's path and when it struck the beast's head was broken, skull shattering as the tip struck. 

Recovering, Merrill grabbed Vir Tasallan from where it had fallen in the mud and used it to release a bolt of pure spirit essence, striking the other beast in the chest, sending it sprawling, dead before it hit the ground. Luna loosed another arrow and it struck the final monster in the throat, falling to it's knees and choking to death on it's own blood. 

Luna went to retrieve her arrows, ripping it from the broken skull of the monster. It was much as how the Keeeper had described it: Like a man, but corrupted and dark. It's skin was grey, it's built tall and muscular.

“Creators!” Cried Merrill from behind her. “What were those things? Were those Darkspawn?” 

Luna nodded slowly. “That would make the most sense.” 

Merrill bit her lips and shook her head. “They were... evil.” And... unnatural. She could smell the evil on them, something not of this world, not made by the Creators. “Where did they come from?” 

Luna shook her head and sat up, putting the arrow back in her quiver. “I don't know, da'mi. I just don't know.” She motioned to where the cave was, just ahead on the path. “Let's go, quickly.” 

“Wait.” Luna turned to see Merrill. “Lethallin, are you alright?” Luna raised an eyebrow at the question. “Were you... hurt during the fight? I didn't see you get hit, but then again I was on the ground, and I was casting magic...” Then her eyes widened. “I didn't hit you, did I? Oh, I'm so sorry Lethallin, the Keeper is always telling me to watch that, and I-” 

“Merrill.” Luna held up her hand with a chuckle. She was always rambling and would go on for hours if she let her. “I'm fine. Nothing happened to me.” 

Merrill quirked her head to look at the huntress. “It's just that you're... quite pale. Feverish.” 

Luna pulled a glove off of her hand to inspect her hand. She was, in fact, completely bone white, the blood drained out of her already pale skin. For a moment she panicked, but then nodded and put her glove back on. It likely wasn't anything, probably just whatever had left her out of it for two whole days or maybe her fear for Tamlen's safety. 

“I'm fine.” She reassured, looking back up. “Probably just the fact that I've not eaten anything for three days.” 

Merrill nodded and followed her friend into the ruins that they were headed for in the first place. Luna promptly stopped at the end of the stairwell, frozen in place. 

“Lethallin? What is it?” 

“This door...” She gestured to where the door had been before. It still lay in the frame, but the polished metal and freshly sanded wood was now old and decrepit. The metal had rusted and fallen off, the wood eaten away by insects. This couldn't be the same one, surely. And yet... 

“Luna?” 

The elf shook her head and went for the door, shaking off the feeling and Merrill's question. Something was wrong here, and she wasn't going to figure out what just standing here, mouth agape. 

The next chamber followed behind it's door in suit. It was decrepit and old, abandoned, allowed to rot away many centuries ago. It was very clearly the same room she and Tamlen had found earlier, but aged several hundred years. It was as if it were looking at the same location except after the world had ended. 

“This is wrong.” Breathed Luna. “This is all very, very wrong.” 

Merrill lay a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “I'm here for you.” The tiny Dalish whispered, and Luna nodded, clutching her bow tightly. 

Stepping further into the chamber, the other doors were sealed off, rubble collapsed in their path. The only one that remained was the one that led to the Mirror Tamlen had touched. 

Suddenly a series a deep _thwangs_ sounded, and she dove for the ground, feeling objects move over her head. More crossbow bolts. There were four of those tall Darkspawn on either end of the room, and there was a massive, unusual beast that was covered in armour and big as a bear and using it's muscular arms to support it's weight.

Merrill lashed out at one of the Darkspawn archers with a boulder summoned from the Fade, slamming it into it and sending it flying into the wall, crashing down onto the ground. She began to summon another spell, but was hit in the back by one of the bolts from the Darkspawn behind her. 

Luna jumped to her feet, pulling her bow up with her. As the Darkspawn reloaded their crossbows, she loosed three arrows, cutting down the whole line of them, leaving just the four behind. 

They loosed another volley at Luna, who rolled out of the way, but was met with a swift blow across the face by the gargantuan beast, sending her back. She just barely managed to make the roll backwards to keep herself on her feet, putting herself right in the way of the archers. Merrill was ripping the bolt out and getting back up, but there was no way she would be ready to continue fighting before Luna was cut down. She didn't have any real choice: If she dove back she'd be cut down by arrows, and if she went forward she'd be forced to face this beast in melee. 

Before she could make a decision, she was tackled down to the ground by an unknown figure, taking her out of the way of the beast's strike, and they lifted a shield that stopped the arrow volley dead in it's tracks. The beast roared and struck at the figure, who changed their facing, pushing the shield in it's path. For anyone else, it would have ripped through their defenceless, but they were without fear, moving as an adamant, unmoving fortress, making the blow bounce harmlessly off of the shield 

The figure took the advantage at that, lashing out with a great blow, driving the blade hard and viciously deep into it's skull, dropping it dead onto the ground. As he battle the monster, Luna recovered herself, rolling back onto her feet. Alongside with Merrill, who had healed both herself and Luna after standing, they cut down the remaining archers. 

Gasping for air, exhausted, Luna turned to the figure who pull his blade from the beast's skull, crimson coating it's surface. Turning, the man was wearing heavy Warden plated armour. He had strong, proud features with a rough beard that hadn't been shaved in weeks and more than his fair share of scars. 

“Thank you-” Merrill began, but Luna held up a hand. This man had saved them, that was undeniable, but they knew nothing else about him. Other than the fact that he was a human, who she despised. 

“Who are you?” She asked coldly. 

The man smiled warmly and inclined his head. “My name is Blackwall. Warden-Constable Blackwall, at your service.” 

For a moment Luna thought, and the she gestured away. “Well then, we must be off.” 

“Luna!” Chastised Merrill. “He saved our lives! We should at least thank him for that.” 

Blackball shook his head, looking vaguely amused. “It's alright. I understand.” He'd been faced with enough hostile Dalish in his life to know that he shouldn't expect gratitude from them. And that wasn't why he had saved the women. He had done it because they needed help, not because he needed approval. 

Merrill smiled at him, seeming nice enough for one of the humans she'd been taught her whole life were dangerous and never to be trusted. “My name is Merrill, this is Luna.” She introduced, and Blackwall smiled. 

“I remember you.” He said to Luna. “I found you outside of this place, brought you back to your people.” Luna glared at him coldly, still unsure of why he was being so helpful. Human bandits had killed the whole of her family, and she wasn't one to forgive that kind of a crime. 

“We're looking for a friend of ours.” Merrill cut in after a tense moment. “He has hair like sand, carries a bow. Have you seen him?” 

Blackwall shook his head, looking at Luna. “Was this Tamlen with you when you came here the first time?” Luna nodded hesitantly after a moment. 

“Yes.” She spoke carefully, sure to not say anything she didn't have to. “Tamlen touched a mirror in the other room, and it trapped him. I broke it and it exploded. I... don't remember anything after that.” 

“I see.” Blackwall nodded sadly. “That's... unfortunate.” He motioned and they followed him to the room with the mirror, which was utterly empty and quiet now, without the mirror in it. “We Wardens have seen artefacts like these before.” He explained. “They're... Tevinter, I think. They used to be used for communication but sometimes they just... break.”

“Break?” Inquired Merrill. 

Blackwall nodded once more. “Somehow, they become filled with the same taint as Darkspawn. Your friend's touch must have released it.”

“But I recovered?” Luna asked, confused. Darkspawn sickness was irreversible, as far as she was aware. “It can't be the Blight. It can’t be!” If it were... 

“It is.” His voice was grim. “Your recovery was... temporary. Soon enough...” He shook his head. “It's good that you destroyed it.” 

'I'm still alive.” She whispered desperately, unwilling, unable to believe his words. “He could be too, still!” 

Blackwall looked down, unable to meet her eyes. “Let me be very clear: There is _nothing_ that you can do for him.” 

“ **NO!** ” She screamed, unable to recognize his words as truth. “He can't be!”

“Lethallin...” Merrill's voice was soft, comforting, but Luna shoved past Blackwall, looking around. He would be here, somewhere. He had to be. There was no way he could be dead. Not if there was any justice in the world. 

“Luna...” Merrill spoke. “He's gone.”

“No.” She cried, falling to her knees, utterly broken. “No, no, no. He can't be. You're wrong.” 

“I'm so sorry, lethallin.” 

Luna hung her head and wept hard, broken and incomplete. How was she supposed to keep going? Her other half, her heart, her soul, was dead. In a cruel moment, her gods had turned on her, justice had fled the world, and they had robbed her of her heart. 

The only solace was that the same disease would consume her, soon. 

“I'm sorry.” Blackwall said to both women, and Merrill nodded, looking away, unable to see Luna like this. “I can cure your friend, however.” 

Merrill's ears poked up at that. “You can save her?” and Blackwall nodded. “How?” 

He thought a moment, and gestured to the door. “It's dangerous, and you'll likely never see her again. I'll have to discuss it with your Keeper. Would you return with me?” 

Merrill shook her head. “No. I will stay here and watch her.”

Blackwall nodded and he left. Merrill stayed, watching vigilant over her only friend while she grieved, holding Luna's hand tightly. 

Now it was her turn to be brave.

* * *

Many hours later, Luna and Merrill walked back into camp, the huntress' hand wound tightly around the mage's, who clasped it in kind. Her eyes were sullen and blood shot, her eyes pink from sobbing so long. 

Luna had no idea what to do with her life now. What was there that could be done? Tamlen had given her a Dalish promise ring, they had been arranged to be bound to one another. He had been the blood of her blood, bone of her bone. The one that the gods above had created for her. What could she do now, without him? 

Merrill guided Luna's shaky footsteps to where the Keeper and Blackwall stood, talking in hushed whispers. She helped the huntress onto a log beside the pair sitting beside her and holding her hand tightly. Blackwall and Marethari sat opposite the pair. 

“Da'len.” Marethari's voice was gently and comforting, but it rang hollow for Luna. Nothing felt real anymore, not even the ground beneath her feet. “I'm so, so sorry.” 

Luna didn't meet her gaze, instead watching the dirt beneath her feet. 

A moment of tensed silence passed before Blackwall broke it. “Your Keeper and I have come to an arrangement concerning you.” He waited, but Luna gave no indication that she had heard or acknowledged his words. “My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure for the taint that consumes you. I can help you, but you have to help us too.” 

“What do the Wardens have to do with helping me?” She asked in a cold, monotone voice that showed no emotion. She may as well have been discussing the weather instead of her future. 

“Everything.” Said Blackwall. “There's a lot to being a Warden, but one of them is the Darkspawn taint. Eventually, the taint will sicken and kill you... or worse. We can prevent that, but it means Joining us.” 

She thought a long moment, where they sat in silence. “Why can't you just give the cure to me?” 

Blackwall thought a moment before he spoke, shaking his head. “The cure is only found by Joining the Grey Wardens. As the only ones who stand against the Darkspawn, we're granted some... immunity to the taint.” 

Luna looked up at the Keeper, and her eyes almost the broke Marethari's heart. “Why should we trust a _human_ , Keeper?” 

Marethari sighed at Luna's childish hatred of all human kind, thinking of how it might be possible to convince the huntress that this was for the best. “A great army of Darkspawn gathers in the south.” She said. “A new Blight threatens the land, and we cannot outrun it. It breaks my heart to send you away, but less so than to watch you die of the taint. This is the duty the Creators have set out before you, and your salvation.” 

Again, Luna thought, lowering her head once more. Minutes passed, and the sun passed itself behind the mountains, the final rays of the day casting down. Then she shook her head. “No. I refuse to go. I will take my chances at die here, with my people.” 

“Da'len, this is the only way you ca-” Marethari started, but Luna stood angrily, her hand slipping from Merrill's. 

“I don't want a cure!” She shouted, now purely angry. The Keeper had tried to sell her off, and for what? To prolong her life a little longer so that she could continue to live in misery? She wouldn't be parcelled off the moment she might be a burden of any kind. She would continue to serve until the taint took her back to the gods above, where she could meet Tamlen once more. 

“I don't want to live, Keeper. Not if Tamlen's dead. Let me die with dignity, instead of whoring me out for a chance at safety.” 

Marethari looked down, and tears teased at the edges of her eyes. Merrill watched her friend with a heavy heart. She couldn't lose her only friend in the whole of the world, but what other choice did she have? Either way Luna would be lost to the clan.

A moment later Luna turned to storm off, but Blackwall spoke once more. “You leave me no choice.” She turned, looking over her shoulder at the group. “I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription.” 

As the words registered, Marethari spoke solemnly. “And I recognize your right. Luna will go with you.” 

“ **WHAT?!** ” She screamed angrily. “You can't just make me leave because I'm an inconvenience! I've given the whole of my life for our clan! You can't just toss me aside like a piece of trash!” 

“This isn't about you not being able to help the clan!” Marethari insisted, standing and meeting Luna's hot gaze of fury. “This is about what's best for you. Keeping you safe.” 

“ **I DON'T WANT TO BE SAFE!** ” She shrieked so loud that the whole clan stirred, looking over at them. “ **I DON'T KEEP LIVING!** ” 

“Don't say that, Lethallin.” Pleaded Merrill. “Please, go with him.” 

Luna turned to Merrill, her seething anger fading a little when she saw the sorrow in the tiny elf's eyes. She blinked, and she saw the same sadness and fear in the eyes of her Keeper. 

“I'm sorry.” Blackwall murmured quietly. He hadn't done it for the Wardens, but rather for the Dalish clan themselves. He had lost too much in his lifetime to the taint, and he wouldn't make them watch it. 

Luna clenched an angry fist, but then released it a moment later. She couldn't make them watch her die of such an ugly disease, as much as her life had no meaning left in it. 

Blackwall stood, and offered out a hand, which she didn't take. A moment later, he turned, hoping to leave her alone with the Keeper to convince her to leave. He didn't want to manhandle her if he didn’t have to. 

“Wait.” Sobbed Luna, and he turned. “I'll go, but... please, please, can we stay a little longer?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I... I need to be here for... Tamlen's funeral. Please.” 

Blackwall nodded. “We have a lot of ground to cover,” He warned. “But I can't deny you that.” 

Almost an hour later, the fires from their pyre they had held for Tamlen's memory died down, and Luna turned to face the Warden, who nodded at her. 

The clan all bowed their heads in respect, except Merrill who had to stop herself from sobbing, resting her fingers over her eyes. Luna stopped, throwing her arms around her only living friend, who hugged her back, tightly. Then she let go, and Luna left. The whole of the clan turned, and watched Luna and Blackwall walk into the distance until they faded from view. 

* * *

“Would you like more?” Blackwall offered the next day of travel, but Luna glared him down. A moment later he set down the bowl of food. “You know, we don't have to be enemies.” 

“You've given me no reason to be your friend, _shem_.” 

Blackwall sighed, putting the food away. “I know you're angry,” He tried to ease the tension in the air. “But I do think you will make an excellent Warden.” 

Luna didn't say anything, and the tension remained. 

“You know why I joined the Wardens?” He asked eventually, and Luna glanced up at him. 

“I take it you were dying too.”

Blackwall shook his head. “Because I thought that my life didn't mean anything. I need a way to spend my life, something to make my it worthwhile. The first time I put on this armour, I felt like I belonged, like I was part of something honourable, something with a purpose. “ 

Luna thought on that a moment, and Blackwall resigned himself to their antagonistic relationship moments before she spoke. “Why was that?” 

“Because they remember honour and sacrifice,” He smiled at Luna opening up, just a little.”Words that have little meaning to the rest of us. Because they lay down their lives for those they have sworn to protect. It's not all just Blight and Darkspawn. At the heart of it, all being a Warden is, is a promise. A promise to protect others, even at the cost of your own life.” 

The words resonated with her. That was exactly what the world was missing, even among the Dalish. “Alright,” She admitted warily. “Look: I'm hurt, I'm scared and I'm alone. But... I'll give your Wardens a chance.”

Blackwall smiled. “You know, we Wardens hunt Darkspawn. Perhaps it will give you some peace to protect others from the same disease that consumed this Tamlen.” 

Luna nodded understandingly. “Perhaps it will.” Then she glanced up. “You went through a whole lot of trouble to recruit me. You saved me from the ruins and risked my clan's anger Why?” 

He shrugged. “There's something in you.” 

Luna raised an eyebrow, but he offered no explanation. “Even so” She contained after a moment. “I'm just one woman. What can a single Warden do?” 

“Save the fuckin' world, if pressed.” 

* * *

As the clan prepared to leave the day after Luna was taken away, Merrill returned to the ruin. She found a shard of the broken mirror, inspecting it. Whatever the Warden had said, she felt none of the evil taint she had felt on the Darkspawn or on Luna. It no longer had the taint inside of it. 

But it might hold answers. It had taken her only friends in the whole of the world. And it might hold the key to bringing them back. 

She slipped the shard in her satchel, and returned to the camp. 

Now it was her turn to be brave.


	5. Joining

Blackwall and Duncan brought Luna and Mara to the ancient ruins of Ostagar, a massive but decaying and decrepit fortress built some thousand years ago for some battle that had since been long forgotten by history. According to Duncan, it had only just been repurposed from an abandoned ruin that was occasionally picked over by scavengers. 

By whatever stroke of luck, at the mouth of the valley where Ostagar began, Duncan and Blackwall both arrived at the same time. 

“Blackwall!” Cried Duncan. 

“Duncan!” Laughed Blackwall. “You old bastard! I hadn't expected to see you again before the battle.” 

“You know I wouldn't miss it.” Duncan clasped Blackwall on the shoulder in a friendly gesture before motioning to Mara. “And I've a new recruit.” 

“As I can see.” Blackwall nodded. “And who are you?” 

“Mara.” She spoke. “Mara of the Circle of Magi.” 

Blackwall nodded again, turning to Luna. “Do you want to introduce yourself or would you rather I do it?” She nodded mutely. “Right. This is Luna, from one of the Dalish clans.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Said Mara and Duncan both. Then Duncan gestured, and they walked on together. Soon into the stoneway bride across the gorge that led to Ostagar, they were stopped by a figure clad in shimmering gold and surrounded by armed soldiers in splintmail. 

“Ho there,” The golden man smiled at the older Warden. “Duncan! Blackwall! Welcome home!” 

“King Cailan!” Duncan smiled. “I didn't expect-” 

“A royal welcome?” Cailan cut him off. “I was beginning to worry that you would miss all of the fun.” 

Duncan chuckled. “Not if I can manage it, your majesty.” 

“Then I'll have the mighty Wardens of Ferelden Duncan and Blackwall at my side after all!” Said Cailan. “Glorious! The other Wardens said you had found new recruits. I take it this is them?” 

“Allow me to introduce you.” Blackwall said. 

“No need to be so formal, Blackwall.” Laughed the king. “We will be sheding blood together, after all. Might I know your name, ladies?” 

“I am Marilina Amell.” Said Mara. 

“I am pleased to meet you.” Cailan said. “I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have spells to help us in the upcoming battle?” 

“I-I will try.” Stammered Mara. “But I am only just out of my apprenticeship.” 

Cailan smiled. “Your abilities are still above those of other men. That the Wardens have recruited you says much.” Then he turned to Luna. “And you?” 

“I am Luna, from the Sabrae clan of the Dalish.” Said the hunter, biting her hatred of humans. 

“A Dalish?” Said Cailan. “We truly do have the best here. Allow me to be the first to welcome you two to Ostagar. The Wardens will undoubtedly benefit greatly from having you beside them.” 

“You're too kind.” said Mara. 

“Well, then.” said Cailan. “I'm sorry to cut this short, but I'm afraid I must return to my tent. Loghain is eager to bore me with new strategies.” 

“That reminds me,” said Duncan. “Your uncle sends his regards and reminds you that his forces could be here in less than a week if you need them.” 

“Eamon just wants in on the glory.” Cailan snorted. “We've won several battles against these beasts, and our scouts say that tomorrow's battle will be the smallest yet.” 

“You sound very… confident in that.” said Luna carefully. 

Cailan laughed. “Over confident, some might say. Right, Duncan?” 

“I'm not so certain that this Blight can be over as soon as you might wish, your majesty.” said Duncan. 

The king shrugged. “I'm not so certain that this is even a true blight. We've seen plenty of Darkspawn on the field but, alas, not sign of any Archdemon.” 

“Disappointed?” Blackwall smiled. 

“I had hoped for a war like in the old tales!” said Cailan. “A king riding with the Grey Wardens against a Tainted God! But, alas, this will have to do. Now, I must be away, before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell!” 

As the king and his company left, Mara glanced over at Duncan to find him seething, biting his lip. Luna clasped at her wrist, anxious and nervous. 

“What the king said was true.” Duncan said after Cailan was safely out of earshot. “We've done three battles against the Darkspawn already.” 

“But you're not reassured.” Mara observed and Duncan nodded. 

“The Darkspawn are nothing to be trifled with.” said Luna. 

Duncan thought a moment. “I know that there's an Archdemon behind all of this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling.” 

“Why not?” asked Mara. “He seemed to think extremely well of the Grey Wardens.”

“But not enough to wait for Warden reinforcements from Orlais.” said Duncan. “He believes that our legend alone makes us invincible. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We cannot stop them with our numbers alone, and we are forced to look to Teryn Loghain to make up the difference.” 

“To that end,” said Blackwall. “We should begin the Joining without delay.” 

“Are we the only recruits you have?” asked Luna. 

“No.” Duncan shook his head. “There are four others, but they are away. For now, you'll be the only ones here.” 

“What do we need to do?” asked Mara. 

“Go into camp. Look for a man with blonde hair, wearing Warden armour by the name of Alistair.” Instructed Duncan. “He will tell you what you should do next.” He turned to Blackwall. “Blackwall, I want you to go to Orlais, as fast as your feet will carry you. Find the Wardens and bring them here. I do not wish to rely entirely on Loghain forever.” 

“Maker go with you, Duncan.” Blackwall nodded and left, never to be seen again. Mara and Luna left for the rest of the camp, walking in awkward silence. 

“So...” said Mara. “You're a Dalish elf?” Luna was silent. “...I like your tattoos.” 

“Shut. Up.” said Luna. 

“I'm sorry?” 

“I don't want to hear you talk, _shem'len_.” 

“Oh. O-okay.” 

On they continued, until soon they were stopped by a figure wearing familiar Circle mage robes that matched Mara's, but were a crimson red instead of her dark blue. 

“Wynne!” cried Mara. “What are you doing here?” 

The woman, Wynne, looked up. Her face was old and tired, with heavy dark lines under her eyes. But in spite of her age, time had not bent her back. Instead she stood strong, striking white hair shining in the sunlight behind her with a powerful stance. 

“Mara?” asked Wynne. “My, my. I had heard the newest Warden recruit was of the Circle, but I hadn't thought it would be you!” 

Mara beamed. “There were… complications at the Circle after my Harrowing, and Duncan thought it best for everyone if I came with him.” 

For a moment the elder mage considered asking, but realized that, especially considering the rather angry looking woman glaring at her, that the apprentice had better things to do than explain her tale to her. 

“I see.” said Wynne. “Well, welcome to Ostagar. A Grey Warden, fighting alongside the king himself. Not too shabby for someone just out of her apprenticeship.” 

“I hope I don't disappoint anyone.” 

“Oh, child.” laughed Wynne. “You've been taught well. Just have faith in yourself.”

“Excuse me.” Luna interjected. “But we have a task at hand.” 

“Oh, of course.” said Mara. “Wynne, have you see a Warden? Blonde hair, wearing that blue Warden armour? Answers to Alistair?” 

Wynne thought a moment, then gestured up a hill behind her. “I believe so. Last I heard, he was talking with one of the other mages from the Circle.” 

“Thank you.” said Mara. “Come. Let's go, while there's still sunlight.” 

Up the hill of carved stone bricks, they found a man who matched the description, arguing with a mage in red robes similar to Wynne's. 

“-And I am busy!” said the angry looking mage. “Haven't you Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?” 

The man they thought to be Alistair held up his hands helplessly. “I am simply delivering a massage from the Revered Mother, ser mage.” 

“And I have no time for such a request.” said the Mage. 

“Should I have asked her to write me a note?” asked Alistair. 

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” 

“Yes. I was harassing _you_ by delivering a message.” 

“Your glibness does you no credit.” 

Alistair folded his arms. “And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you: the grumpy one.” 

“Enough!” the Mage shouted. “I will speak to her if it rids me of you.” And with that, he stormed off, pushing past Mara and Luna. Alistair sighed, stepping towards them. 

“You know, one of the best things about the Blight is how it brings people together.” said Alistair. 

“That's horrible!” said Mara. 

“Is it?” He smiled. “And here I was looking for a bright point in all this.” 

“You are a strange man.” said Luna. 

“You know, you're not the first woman to tell me that.” said Alistair. “So who are you anyhow? I don't suppose you're another mage?” 

“I am indeed.” said Mara. “But I'm also one of the new Warden recruits.” 

“Oh!” said Alistair. “I do know who you are. You're the new recruit from the Circle. And this must be the one from the Dalish.” Luna inclined her head a little. “I'm sorry, I should have recognized you right away. I am Alistair, although you probably already knew that. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you go on your Joining.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” said Mara. “I am Marilina, but you can call me Mara.” 

“I am Luna.” said Luna simply. 

“Right.” said Alistair. “Those were the names. You know, it's occurred to me: There have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. Why do you suppose that is?” 

“And I suppose you want more women, do you?” said Luna. 

“Would that be so bad?” said Alistair. “Not that I'm some drooling lecher or anything. Please, stop looking at me like that.” 

“I would guess that it's because we're too smart for you.” said Mara. 

“Probably.” laughed Alistair. “But if you're here, what does that say about you?”

“Eager to get going.” said Mara, and Alistair laughed. “Come, before Duncan thinks we've run off on him.” 

And with that they headed off. Duncan kept a vigil around a campfire that burned bright constantly, staring into it's blaze and Alistair led them to him on the south end of the camp. He turned to see them before they saw him, somehow knowing that they were coming. 

“You found Alistair, did you?” said Duncan. “Good. We can start preparing for the Joining right away then. Assuming, of course, that you're quite done riling up the mages, Alistair?” 

“What can I say?” shrugged Alistair. “The Revered Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army.” 

“She forced you to provoke the mage, did she?” said Duncan. “Be careful Alistair, we cannot afford to antagonize anyone. No one needs more ammunition against the Grey Wardens.” 

“Of course.” apologized Alistair, who had been doing exactly that. “I'm sorry.” 

“In any case,” said Duncan. “Now that all three of you are here, we should proceed without delay. Normally there's an additional piece to the Joining, but we're short of time. There are four other Warden recruits doing the other half of the task. Out in the Wilds, there used to be a Warden archive that was abandoned when we could no longer afford to maintain such a remote outpost. It has recently come to my attention that there are important scrolls that were left behind, and I need you to find them. Go look for this outpost and find them, if you can.” 

“An abandoned outpost in the Wilds?” said Luna. “I've lived in these forests since I was small. Anything valuable there, isn't there anymore.” 

Duncan nodded. “It's entirely possible that they've been stolen or destroyed, but I'm counting on a seal that was placed on the chest where they were stored. Only a Warden can break this seal, and I'm hoping that it was still in place.” 

“What kind of scrolls are these?” asked Mara. 

“Old treaties, if you're curious.” said Duncan. “Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago. They were once considered formalities, but with so many having forgotten their support of us, I suspect it would be a good idea to have something to remind them.” 

“Find the archive.” nodded Alistair. “Got it.” 

“Watch over them, Alistair.” ordered Duncan. “If the treaties aren't there, then don't linger. You cannot miss the fortress, it's a massive ruin in the middle of the woods. Return quickly and safely.” 

And with that, they headed off. 

* * *

 

Not ten minutes into the forests, they encountered a grisly scene. Men lay butchered on the ground, blood spilling into the ground under where their bodies lay to rest, blades and spears and arrows still protruding from their bodies. 

And one still stood, blade clashing with the Darkspawn. Her hair was shortly cut and scraggly, her stance was powerful and proud, but beaten and overpowered. 

As the next Darkspawn lunged at the woman, Luna loosed an arrow into it, splattering it's blood across the woman as it fell. She briefly glanced over her shoulder at them, but didn't have the time to concentrate on the strangers who had provided her with a chance. Mara felt out with a gentle blue healing that mended her wounds and gave her renewed vigour to continue fighting. 

Within moments they had taken off the party of Darkspawn raiders that had been attacking her. She fell to the ground, utterly exhausted as the Wardens to be found her side. 

“Who… are you?” said the woman. “Are you… Wardens?” 

“We are.” said Mara, feeling her emotion. “Relax. You're safe now.” 

“Thank you.” said the woman. “Thank you so much. If you hadn't come along… my name is… Hawke. And I owe you my life.” 

“You owe me nothing.” 

“I think I do. Listen to me: There's an army in these forests. Be careful. Please.” 

“An army?” asked Luna. “Of Darkspawn?” 

Hawke nodded. “There's hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. Me and my scouting party were ambushed by them, and we were… slaughtered.” Then she stood. “I must be getting back to the Teryn to report what happened. Be careful out here, Wardens.”' 

“Did you hear that?” asked Mara after the woman left. “An entire company. Decimated, ambushed. Hundreds of them in the forests? What chance do the three of us stand?” 

“Calm down.” said Alistair. “We might run into stragglers, but we're in no danger of running into the bulk of the horde.” 

“Are you sure?” asked Mara. “I'm willing to fight these… these things, but I can't fight thousands of them by myself. How can you be sure we won't get ambushed like these men?” 

Alistair nodded. “I'm certain. All Wardens can… sense Darkspawn. We'll undoubtedly be attacked, but it won't be a surprise and I'll be certain not to lead us into the horde.” 

“We'll be fine.” said Luna. Mara held up a hand helplessly and followed in suit behind the junior Warden. 

They were quickly beset by more Darkspawn and they fell into a rhythm. Alistair took the front with his shield, Luna trailing behind him with her bow, ready to draw her dual blades whenever they got past, and Mara held up the rear with her staff and spells, supporting her companions with healing and rejuvenation. Alistair taught them the basics of Darkspawn as they battled through their ranks: The foot soldiers with bows and blades that Luna had fought were named Hurlocks, the gorilla beasts that she had also faced in the ruins were called Genlocks. You were not to swallow the blood unless you were actually a Warden, as it would cause you to come down with the same sickness that plagued Luna, only much sooner. 

Mara gagged hard when she saw men hanging from the trees, strung up and with necklaces of rope around their necks. Hung by the Darkspawn. The very idea of death brought a chill to her bones. The only thing she was comfortable with death was that of the Darkspawn, as she felt no emotion, no soul within them from her unnatural empathy. Whatever they were, they were not of this world. 

Soon, the came across a crumbling fortress in the heart of the wilds, and they all knew what it was. So did the Darkspawn, as they stood in formation outside of it's entryway. There stood a dozen of the hurlocks, accompanied by four of the genlocks on their flanks, and at their heart lay a beast like which none of them had ever seen: It was a massive, brutish creature two and a half times the size of Alistair, and it wore armour made of a crude patchwork of breastplates and shields threaded together with rope and wire, with several vulnerable spots in the assemblage where the rope was strained by it's flesh. 

“What is that?” asked Mara. 

“Duncan had described it to me.” said Alistair. “It's an Ogre.” 

“And how do we kill it?” said Luna. 

“Stab where the armour is bulged out.” He ordered. “According to Duncan, that patchwork is tougher than it looks, so hit where there isn't any.” 

And with that, they were off. Alistair held up his shield in a wall formation, holding the line and letting the arrow volley of the Hurlocks slam into it's the surface uselessly. Luna dashed out from behind him and loosed an arrow into the head of the archers, loosing a volley. Mara held up an energetic barrier behind them, filling the hearts of her comrades with vigour and their minds with images of victory, while demoralizing their opponents, calling on a primal fear that still lay in their hearts, twisted creatures though they were. 

Alistair ducked under the reach of the Ogre and rolled out of it's path. Luna loosed another arrow, a precise extension of herself that was honed so keenly after decades in the forests. The arrow struck it in the left eye, blinding it. The beast roared in anger and swung out blindly, missing the Warden. It roared again when it didn't find Alistair and charged in a blind fury to where Luna stood. Instead of running as she should had, she knelt and let another arrow loose into it's second eye, utterly leaving it in darkness. 

Mara lashed out into it's breastplate with a spell of cold, which she had been practising with ever since she had used it to defeat the rage demon in the Fade. It hit the giant uselessly, but it froze it's armour plating, leaving it brittle. That was the design. 

Alistair slashed it's leg at the knee where the metal didn't cover the flesh. It screamed and fell as the tendons in it's leg was ripped asunder. Luna loosed another arrow, this time striking it dead in the middle of it's forehead. It roared and lashed out with both arms blindly, striking the Dalish hunter and knocking her off of her feet. Mara immediately brought another healing spell to her, mending the wounds before she hit the ground, but still leaving her hurt and stunned. 

Alistair let out a great and mighty cry and lashed out at the rope holding it's breastplate in place Ordinarily the cords would have would have easily survived the blow, but the cold from Mara left it brittle and useless, snapping with ease. It's armour collapsed. 

Then he pushed his advantage, jumping onto the leg the hung behind it by a thread, and lashed into it's back, striking strong muscles that blocked by the armour only moments earlier, splitting it's skin and tearing it open in a stream of blood. The creature was bloated on the backside, and it poured out in gore. Mara hit it in the chest with another spell of cold, which left a blackened mark where it struck and made it cry out in pain. 

Luna, head swimming, stood and grabbed her bow as the world faded back into a single coherent shape. Pulling a single arrow back as far as it would go, she loosed it right into the beast's heart, brining it down. Then she shouldered the bow and drew her twin knives. Together with Alistair they cut down the remainder of the Darkspawn who lingered at the entryway, demoralized and inefficient by Mara's magic. 

“What was that thing?” said Mara as the last of the Darkspawn fell.

“I haven't ever seen it myself,” said Alistair. “But Duncan had described it to me before. It was an Ogre. Sometimes they patch together armour from the dead and use it for themselves.” 

She sighed and followed, silently wondering to herself what she had gotten into if these were the kinds of things they would be battling. 

Into the ruins they crept, finding the fortress destroyed by time. All that was left was a single antechamber where a golden chest lay with the Warden sigil on it. Inside, it was utterly empty. What they had come for was no longer there. 

“Well, well, well.” A foreign voice called. “What have we here?” 

They all turned. Standing behind them was a figure, a svelte, exotic-looking young woman with long black hair and large eyes. She wore the outfit of a survivor, strong leather boot sand trousers, with a wine coloured shirt that had several plates of armour strewn together across her chest and shoulders not entirely unlike the Ogre they had fought.

“Are you a vulture, I wonder?” said the woman. “A scavenger poking around a corpse long since picked clean? Or merely an intruder, come into these infested forests in search of easy prey?” 

Alistair and Luna gripped at their weapons, unsure of this woman, but Mara's sense found no hint of hostility from the woman, only curiosity mixed with wariness. 

“Our order owns this tower.” said Mara. “We merely came to retrieve our own from it.” 

The woman laughed. “Well, 'tis a tower no longer, as you can clearly see, and there is nothing left here for anyone to reclaim. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse. I have watch your progress through these forests, you know. 'Where do they go,' I wondered. 'Why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched in the last age. Why is that?” 

“Don't answer her.” said Alistair. “She looks Chasind, and that means there might be more nearby.” 

She laughed. “And you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you if you answer a simple question?” 

“Yes,” said Alistair. “Swooping is bad.” 

“She's not Chasind.” said Luna. “I've lived long enough in these forests to tell you that. She's a Witch of the Wilds.” 

“Witch of the Wilds?” The woman laughed again. “Such idle fantasies, those legends. Have you no mind of your own?” She looked to Mara. “You there. You do not seem to be frightened like a small child. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.” 

Mara swallowed. There was no hostility inside of her, only annoyance and caution. “My name is Mara.” She said, taking a shaky step towards the woman and offering out a hand. The woman graciously took it. “And you are?” 

“Now that is a proper civil greeting.” She said. “You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess at your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?” 

“Here no longer?” said Alistair. “You stole them, didn't you? You're… some kind of… sneaky… witch thief!” 

“How very eloquent.” said Morrigan. “And do tell me, how does one steal from dead men?” 

“Quite easily, it seems.” said Alistair. “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.” 

“I will not,” said Morrigan. “For 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing out here, I am not threatened.” 

“This is a waste of time.” said Luna. “She's just toying with us. Let's just go.” 

“Wait.” said Mara, meeting the golden eyes of Morrigan. “If it wasn't you, could you tell us who _did_ remove them? We need those documents.” 

Morrigan nodded. “Twas my mother, in fact.” 

“Alright,” said Mara. “And can you take us to her?” 

Morrigan smiled. “Ah, now there is a sensible request. I do like you.” 

“I'd be careful.” said Alistair. “First it's 'I like you' and then **Zap** , frog time. I do hate the thought of being put in a pot.” 

“If the pot is any warmer than these woods,” said Luna. “It will be a nice change of pace.” 

“Follow me then,” said Morrigan. “If it pleases you.” 

Both Luna and Alistair shared a glance, unsure of what they should do, but Mara followed Morrigan willingly, without waiting for her comrades. She hadn't figured they would follow, but their task was to obtain these treaties, and she intended to do exactly that. With a sigh, Luna and Alistair followed the mage, hoping that her instincts were correct. 

Morrigan guided them down twisting and winding roads through the treeline and past old crossroads that had been abandoned for more than a hundred years. Without a guide, they would have been lost hopelessly a thousand times over, but Morrigan knew her way perfectly. And before terribly long, they came across a hut in the swamps. 

In front of the hut was an old woman, sitting alone. She wore a robe with crimson silks, the same material of Morrigan's shirt, but it had scales woven together in an armoured fashion across her chest and thighs. Her hair was white, but was so filthy that it was more akin to a grey. 

“Greetings, Mother.” Morrigan said to the old woman. “I bring three Grey Wardens who-” 

“I see them, girl.” said the woman, standing. “Much as I expected.” 

Alistair raised a brow at her. “Are we supposed to believe you've just been sitting in the woods, waiting for us?” 

“You are required to do nothing.” said the woman. “Least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide… either way, one's a fool.” 

“A fool is the greatest aspiration one could have.” said Mara simply and the old woman laughed. 

“Oooh, I like you.” She said. 

“She's a witch.” said Luna. “I'm telling you, we shouldn't be talking to her.”

The woman laughed again. “Witch? Oh, how long it has been since I have heard that insult! Or was it an insult? Perhaps it was merely a statement. Or even a compliment?”

“An insult.” said Alistair.

“Was it now?” She turned her gaze on Mara. “And what about you? Do you believe as they do, or does your mind give you a different viewpoint?” 

She thought a moment, feeling the emotion in the old woman. There was no malice, only curiosity. And yet… there was something under the surface within her… 

“I'm not sure what to believe.” She said at last. 

“A statement that carries more wisdom than it implies.” said the woman. “Be always aware… or is it oblivious? I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain… and yet I believe, in you. Do I? Why, it seems I do!” 

“So… this is the dreaded witch of the wilds?” Alistair asked Luna. 

“Witch of the Wilds?” said the woman. “Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moonlight!” She cackled. 

“They did not come to hear your wild tales, _mother_.” said Morrigan. 

“True.” said the woman. “They came for their treaties, yes?” She reached into her robes and brought out a collection of three scrolls. “And before you being barking, your seal wore off years ago.” 

“You...” Alistair said. “You protected them?” 

“And why not?” She said. “Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them that this Blight's threat is greater than they would realize.” 

Mara gratefully took them, feeling a little proud. Had she not come with them, they would have returned to Duncan empty handed. For her first day as a Warden, she wanted to impress, to prove that she wasn't just some precious little girl with a head full of fluff, if to no one but herself. 

“Time for you to go, then.” said Morrigan. 

“Nonsense.” said the woman. “These are your guests, girl. Be a good host and show them off.” 

Morrigan sighed and led them, taking a new path that led them directly to the gates of Ostagar's camp. 

“Thank you-” Mara began, turning to see their guide, but Morrigan was gone. She turned to see Luna and Alistair shrug, not having seen her either. Whoever she and her mother were, they were both very strange, but she felt appreciative. 

As they entered the camp, they were stopped by a man in armour with a blade around his waist. “Excuse me.” He said. “But are you the new Wardens?” Mara nodded. “Could you help me?” 

“Maybe.” She said. “What do you need help with?” 

“I'm the Mabari master out here, and I need help taking care of a sick one.” He gestured and she looked over her shoulder. 

“Go see Duncan and tell him what we found.” She told them, and Luna and Alistair nodded before leaving. 

He took her to the dog kennels, where the single grey and white dog had been singled out from his fellows, laying sad and pathetic. 

“You need help with him?” said Mara and the man nodded. “I don't know anything about dogs.” 

He shrugged. “It's not so much about what you know as what you are, really. You see, this poor thing's master died in the last battle, and it swallowed Darkspawn blood. I have medicine that might help it survive, but I need it muzzled first. I was hoping it might respond better to you than me, since it should know what you are.” 

“Should know what I am?” She raised an eyebrow. “A Warden?” He nodded. “I”m not actually a Warden yet, just a recruit.” 

“Doesn't matter.” He shrugged. “Mabari are at least as smart as your average tax collector, and he knows what you're to be. At the very least, if he gets you sick, you'll soon be immune to the taint.” 

She sighed and nodded. “I'll give it a shot, if you think I can help him survive.”

As she entered it's pen, the dog sat up and adopted a hostile stance. But then it looked up to her with big and black eyes of sadness, then laid down again. It was clear that it was very, very sick. She didn't need to feel it's pain through empathy to know how true that was. 

It growled weakly when she put the muzzle on, but it didn't resist. It then whined plantively as she left, not wanting to be alone. 

“Well done.” The man congratulated as she wiped her hands on he robes. “Now I can get to treating him proper, the poor fellow. Thank you so much.” 

“No problem.” She smiled. “Will he be alright?” 

“I think so.” said the man. “Come by after the battle. It's likely he will remember you saved him, and he might even choose you to be his new master.”

“Really?” She asked. 

The man nodded. “He's a smart one.” 

“Hmm.” Mara thought. “Well, I should be off now, I'm already late. But I'll consider coming back when all this is over.” 

Duncan awaited at his campfire, standing a vigil with the others. Luna and Alistair stood with him, along with a short elf with dark skin and a tall man in gleaming armour and brown hair cut short. 

“-And the dwarves?” said Duncan. 

“Dead.” said the man in armour. “I had enough time to save Theron from the beasts, but Natia and Duran were cut down by them.” 

“Two more promising recruits. Gone.” Then he turned to Mara who was just now approaching. “At least, Alistair says you have good news.” 

“We got what we went for.” said Mara. 

“Good.” said Duncan, holding out a hand to which Mara gave the treaties. “I told you that there were four other recruits besides yourself? Now it is only two, but here they are. With two of them taken by the Darkspawn, we should begin the Joining immediately, without delay.” 

For a moment she considered telling him off Morrigan and her mother, but they were already on their way. Duncan left them at the hill where she had met Alistair and disappeared for last minute preparations, leaving them in a tense silence. 

“The more I hear of this Joining, the less I like it.” said the man in armour. “Why all of these damned tests? I more than proved myself at Highever!” 

“What are you on about this time?” said the elf man. 

“I felled dozens of men when they came to Highever.” said the warrior. “Have I not proved myself?”

“Maybe it's tradition.” said the elf. “Maybe they are just trying to annoy you.” 

“I swear,” said Luna. “The women here are braver than the both of you.”

“Would you have come if they warned you?” asked the elf. “Maybe that's why they didn't.” 

“I didn't have a choice.” said the man. “They ripped me from my home when I didn't have another choice! Their damned right of conscription!” 

“The wardens do what they must.” said the elf. 

“Including sacrificing us?” 

“I would sacrifice a lot more if it would end the Blight.” said Mara. 

“Maybe you'll die.” said the elf. “Maybe we'll all die. If no one stops the Darkspawn, we'll all die for sure.” 

“That's true.” said the man. “But I've never faced a foe that I could not face with my blade.” 

Then Duncan arrived, and all heads turned to him. “At last,” He spoke. “We come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Wardens drank of Darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint.” 

“We… we are going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?!” shrieked Mara. 

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us.” said Duncan. “As we did before you. This is the source of our power, and our victory.” 

“Those who survive the Joining,” said Alistair. “become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the Darkspawn, and use it to kill the Archdemon.” 

“Those who survive?” said Luna. 

“Not all who drink the blood survive,” said Duncan. “And those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is kept a secret. It is the price we pay. I will not lie to you: It is heavy indeed. We speak only a few words prior to the ceremony. Alistair, if you would.” 

“Join us, brothers and sisters.” spoke Alistair. “Join us in the shadows where we stand. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten… and that one day we shall join you.”

With that, Duncan picked up one of four silver chalices that lay on the table, filled to the brim with blood that shimmered with magic on it's surface. 

“Theron, step forward.” 

The elf followed his order and took the chalice in his hands. Then he took it in his hands, and drank the whole of it, to the last drop. Immediately he began coughing heavily, hacking up his lungs, his voice suddenly hoarse and desperate. He fell to the ground, screaming. 

“I'm so sorry.” Duncan said, looking away as the elf died. “Aedan, step forward.” 

“No!” The man shouted, drawing his blade. “There is no honour in this! I will not be killed by this… tainted blood! 

“Aedan...” said Duncan. “You cannot turn back. Drop. Your. Blade.” 

“ **NO!** ” And with that, Duncan dropped the second chalice, drawing his own blade. The human, Aedan, swung his blade at the Warden, who blocked it and stabbed him in the chest. 

“I am so, so sorry.” Then he drew back his blade, killing the human. “Luna, step forward.” 

She did as ordered, unafraid of death, welcoming it with open arms. She grasped it, and drunk from it's surface, much as Theron had before her. But she didn't begin coughing. Instead an intense pain began, feeling the her blood rush in searing agony, especially behind her eyes and ears. Then she fell to the ground beside her brethren, but very much alive. 

“From this moment on,” He said. “You are a Grey Warden.” Then he grabbed the final Chalice. “Marilina, step forward.” 

She followed suit, unafraid as much as Luna. As she drank, pain filled her as it had Luna, and the world fell into darkness.


	6. War for Ostagar

_A dragon awaits in the distance, large as a village and black as night. It's gaze met Mara's, and it smiled a wicked smile as consciousness streamed back to her._

 

Mara woke up screaming, colour immediately streaming back to her as the flood of memories drowned her in them.

 

_Pain, flashing darkness, a beast roaring in front, a blackened city behind…_

 

She sat up, cold sweat drenching her brow. In the room sat Duncan and Alistair, with Luna on a bedroll much like her own beside.

 

“You're awake.” Alistair said.

 

“It is finished, then.” said Duncan. “Welcome.”

 

“Two more deaths.” said Alistair. “In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible. I'm glad at least you two survived.”

 

“How do you feel?” asked Duncan.

 

“That was more painful than the Harrowing.” said Mara. “And I still can't believe you killed that man.”

 

“I.. he left me with no choice.” said Duncan. “I warned him, but when he went for his blade, I...”

 

“It's okay.” said Mara, feeling his pain run through herself in turn. “I understand.”

 

“Did you have dreams?” asked Alistair. “I had terrible nightmares after my Joining.”

 

“Such dreams come when you begin to feel the Darkspawn, as we do.” said Duncan. “That and many other things will be explained to you in the months to come, so hopefully you can learn to overcome them.”

 

“Before I forget, there is one more part to your Joining.” said Alistair. “We take some of the blood, whether of the fallen or of the Darkspawn, and we put it in a pendant. Something to remind us of… those who didn't make it this far. We… call it the Warden's Oath. Here.” And with that, he passed both women a pendant necklace with the middle filled to the brim with blood.

 

“If you are ready,” said Duncan. “There is a meeting with the king in a few moments I am to attend. I would like you both to attend.”

 

“Why?” asked Luna with narrowed eyes.

 

“Just… trust me.” said Duncan. “Their is a set of official Warden armour on the table for you both. Get dressed in them, and meet me down the stairs to the West.”

 

They nodded, and Duncan and Alistair left them in privacy. Luna stood immediately and plucked her new raiment from the table, obvious which one belonged to whom: There was one that was little more than clothing so as not to make spell casting difficult, while Luna's had armour on it, though not as much as Alistair's so as to not restrict movement.

 

“Are you going to get dressed?” She asked to Mara, who still sat on her bedroll. “Or are you just going to sit there, staring?”

 

“I...” stammered Mara. “Would like to get dressed alone, please.”

 

Luna raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask further, simply tossing aside her leather duster and dressing herself in the lightweight armour, Mara looking away in embarrassment. Then she left, grabbing her bow and twin knives from where they lay and heading off to where Duncan had directed them.

 

Then she stood and pulled on the robes, except this was significantly less like a dress, now having pants instead of a skirt, with leathery gloves and boots. Looking in a mirror on the table, she gingerly touched her neck. On the right side of her throat lay a long and gnarled scar, where it had been slit by a Templar, so many years ago. Even to see it…

 

Her mage robes had a collar that had covered it well, but here, with these new ones…

 

There was a collar on it. If she pulled it up just right, it just barely covered the memory. She grasped at the Ironbark staff on the table beside it, and she pulled herself along, ready to follow so long as the memories wouldn't.

 

As she exited the tent, Alistair awaited outside it and he smiled at Mara. “Ready to go?” He said, offering her an arm. “Thought I would escort you myself.”

 

“Oh, that wasn't necessary.” said Mara with a kind smile. “But thank you.”

 

“Here,” said Alistair. “There's something wrong with your collar, let me just fix that...”

 

“No, wait, I-” Mara started, but it was too late. Alistair grabbed at her collar to straighten it, and froze where he saw her throat has been slit to the bone.

 

“Maker...” She slipped away, covering her neck as though she were naked, ensuring that it was utterly covered by her hands, away from sight. “I'm so sorry, I didn't-”

 

“It's fine.” said Mara. “It's fine, it's fine. Just… just don't say anything to anyone. It's… not something I share.”

 

“What-” He started.

 

“Please don't.” Mara cut him off. “Don't ask. Just… don't.”

 

“Wait.” Alistair said, digging in his pack. “Here. If you don't want anyone to see that scar, I found this out in the wilds on one of those scout missions Duncan sent me on. If you want it, it's yours.”

 

“Oh no, that's quite-” She started before freezing. From his bag, Alistair pulled a silvery scarf that shimmered and sparkled when the sunlight struck it. “Maker's breath...”

 

“Would you like it?” asked Alistair, holding it out. Mara took it carefully, holding such a precious thing in her hands for the first time. Surely something so beautiful was worth much, and it was simply given as a gift.

 

“Of course I would.” Mara whispered. “But surely it's worth more than just a present for me?”

 

“Of course it's not.” said Alistair. “Not if it protects you from such pain. Take it.”

 

“Thank you.” said Mara. “Thank you so much.” She pulled her collar down the whole of the way, fully revealing her shame, and then pulled the scarf around her neck, tying it tightly.

 

“Now come on.” said Alistair. “Let's not keep the King himself waiting.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Loghain,” They could hear Cailan say from the war table. “My decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in the defence of Ostagar.”

 

At the table stood Duncan and Luna already, along with Cailan in his golden armour and a man in plate armour that they presumed was Loghain. Across from them was a woman in a Chantry robe and a bald man in a crimson red Circle robe.

 

“You risk too much!” shouted Loghain. “The Darkspawn horde is much too powerful, much to great for you just to go out and start playing hero on the front lines!”

 

“If that's the case,” said Cailan. “Perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us after all.”

 

Loghain brought a fist onto the table. “I must... once more... repeat my protests to the fool notion that we need those bastards to protect ourselves!”

 

“It is not a fool notion.” protested Cailan. “Our arguments with the Orlesians are long since gone and made up for… and you will remember who at this table is king.”

 

“How fortunate that Maric did not live to see his son turn over the country that he loved so much to those who had enslaved his country for nearly a century!” said Loghain, exasperated. “Those he and I spent the whole of our lives fighting.”

 

“Then we will need every last man and woman of our current forces, won't we?” said Cailan. “Duncan, are your Wardens ready for battle?”

 

“They are, your majesty.” said Duncan. “We have… less than we had hoped for, but we are ready.”

 

“And these are the two that I met on the road earlier?” said Cailan. “I understand congratulations are in order on the survival of your Joining.”

 

“Thank you.” said Mara and Luna.

 

“Every Grey Warden is needed now.” said Cailan. “You should be honoured to join their ranks. It is a legendary order, one that has saved the world many times over.”

 

“Your… fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing!” said Loghain. “We must attend to reality.”

 

“Fine.” sighed Cailan, looking at the map on the table. “Speak your strategy. The Wardens and my armies draw out the Darkspawn into open battle, yes? And then…?”

 

“You will light a signal fire in the tower of Ishal, here.” He pointed at the map. “That will signal my men to charge from our cover over a hill, here. We will hit their flanks, fighting them on two fronts. An assault that they cannot withstand.”

 

“And who shall light the beacon?” asked Cailan.

 

“I have a few men and women stationed there.” said Loghain. “It is not a dangerous task, vital though it may be.”

 

“Then we should send our best.” said Cailan. “Duncan, have Alistair and the new Warden recruits go to the tower for the battle. That should keep your newest recruits safer than normal, and you will ensure that it is done correctly.”

 

“You rely on the Wardens far too much.” said Loghain. “It that truly wise?”

 

“I have had enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain.” said Cailan. “The sole purpose of the Wardens is to protect us from the Blight. Wherever they may come from.”

 

“Your majesty,” said Duncan. “You should consider the possibility of an Archdemon appearing.”

 

“There have been no signs of any dragon in the Wilds.” said Loghain.

 

“Is that not why your men are here, Duncan?” said Cailan.

 

“I...” said Duncan. “Y-yes, your majesty. Of course.”

 

“Your majesty,” spoke the bald man. “The tower and it's beacon are both completely unneeded. The Circle can-”

 

“We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage!” hissed the Chantry woman. “Save them for the Darkspawn, lest the armies need our Maker's Templars as well.”

 

“How dare you suggest that-”

 

“Enough!” shouted Loghain. “This plan will do well enough. The Grey Wardens shall reinforce my men at the tower and light the beacon.”

 

“Thank you, Loghain.” said Cailan. “I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The King and the Grey Wardens, riding side-by-side to stem the tide of evil!”

 

“Yes, Cailan.” said Loghain as he turned to walk away, darkness in his voice. “A glorious moment for all.”

 

And with that, all but the Wardens left, leaving them to discuss among themselves.

 

“You heard the plan.” said Duncan. “You three shall all go to the tower of Ishal across the canyon and ensure that it's beacon is lit when I give the signal.”

 

“I can't believe this.” said Alistair. “I still won't be in the battle, even after all of this time in the Wardens I'm still not trusted enough to do battle.”

 

“I agree.” said Luna. “We are Wardens, are we not? We should be there to battle the Darkspawn, as our purpose. I would slaughter so many Darkspawn that the ground would not hold their corpses, for what they have done to my life.”

 

“This is by the King's personal request.” said Duncan. “If the beacon is not lit, then Loghain's men will never know when to charge. There are more important pieces to a battle than being on the front line, you both know that.”

 

“I, for one,” said Mara. “Am glad. Lighting a giant fireplace is much more my style than being put in the front of a battle to fight for my life.”

 

“I… understand.” said Alistair. “It just… hurts.”

 

“You'll need to cross the bridge at the bottom of camp to get to the tower.” commanded Duncan. “Wait once you reach the entryway to the bridge. The Darkspawn could attack at any minute, and their archers have pinpoint accuracy. Wait for the battle to being and their soldiers to be too distracted to see you to pick you off.”

 

“Understood.” said Luna.

 

“I will signal you when the signal is to be lit.” said Duncan. “Alistair will know what to listen for. I must join the others now. Remember: all three of you are Grey Wardens now. I expect you to be worthy of that title from here on out. Now forth, and fear no darkness.”

 

“Duncan,” said Alistair as the Warden turned to join the forces. “May the Maker watch over you.”

 

“May he watch over us all.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alistair led them to the entryway of the bridge, and they stopped as per their instruction, though all of them were tempted to run across the bridge now. But orders were to hold still here and they intended to listen.

 

“I wish we were in the battle.” said Alistair. “We could do so much good. Not the Cailan trusts me in the slightest.”

 

“Those Darkspawn bastards took my beloved.” hissed Luna. “I would redden the roads with their blood if I were given the chance.”

 

“Quiet, both of you!” said Mara.

 

Not moments after Mara had silenced her companions, a great noise sounded from across the plains that they had designated as their battlefield: A massive rolling boom that came from the forest across the plains, deep and powerful enough that the stones of the bridge underneath their feet trembled. _Boom_. Then came an answering drum, near the first. _Doom._

 

_Boom… doom…_

 

They were drums. War drums.

 

“They're here.” whispered Mara, even though, as Wardens, they could now feel the horde and all of the Darkspawn. “What do we-”

 

She was cut off by another roar of the drum in the distance.  _Boom… doom…_

 

Then horns called in symphony from the woods, blaring across the distance, and shrill cries called out in a cacophonous battle cry. The Warden core inside of them could feel the beasts, even though they lay out of sight. Their skin tingled and burned as they felt the Darkspawn approach.

 

Moments later, the first of the Darkspawn emerged from the fires. At their head lay a special Hurlock, clad in golden armour as if a twisted mockery of Cailan. A string of heads were tied around his waist, an enormous battleaxe, made of blacksteel that rested on his palm, heavy in it's weight.

 

“The Vanguard.” whispered Alistair. “The second-in-command of the Darkspawn.”

 

And he wasn't alone. At first, dozens followed, then hundreds, perhaps even up to more than a thousand. The bulk of the horde weere Hurlocks, but soon the beastial Genlocks clambered behind, and they themselves were followed by the massive lumbering ogres, some clad in the string of scavenged armour that they had seen earlier, others simply in their thick hide. And other Darkspawn followed that even Alistair had never seen before.

 

_Boom… doom..._

 

“Maker's breath.”

 

“How many of them are there?”

 

“Fen'harel's teeth.”

 

_Boom… doom..._

 

The battle commenced. The archers of the armies released their arrows in a heavy volley, cutting down the first wave of the Darkspawn. As their readied themselves for another volley, the dogmasters released hat was left of their dog kennels from the first few battles. They brought down what was left of the first few lines of the beasts before being cut down themselves.

 

Another volley released and cut down more, then another. The soldiers prepared themselves, shield bearers in the front with spearmen behind them, ready to stab over when their armies collided for the push. Then the rest stood behind, ready for once the first assault wave ended.

 

Then the Darkspawn hit their lines, blades flashed and clattered, screams and battle cries filled the battlefield.

 

“Now!” hissed Mara, and they dashed across the bridge to the tower while no one could see them, scuttling across the abandoned surface without being seen.

 

As they reached the other end, the woman from earlier who they had seen in the forest, Hawke, ran from the doors of the tower, sword in hand, bathed in blood and gasping for air.

 

“Hawke!” said Mara. “What's wrong? Has something happened at the tower?”

 

"Grey Wardens! I'm glad you're here" Hawke shouted. "The tower has been attacked by the Darkspawn."

 

"What?" cried Alistair. "There wasn't supposed to be any resistance!"

 

"Fen'harel's teeth." swore Luna. "Come on, we must go retake the tower! Quickly, before the signal comes!"

 

"I wish you luck!" shouted Hawke. "I must go and tell General Loghain of the situation here. If I hurry, he might be able to send reinforcements for you lot."

 

"Understood." said Alistair. "Go, and fear no darkness.”

 

They entered the door to the tower and entered. As soon as they did, they were met by Darkspawn crossbow men ambushing them, firing a volley. Alistair reacted immediately, lifting his shield and blocking the death from his comrades, a half dozen bolts struck the shield's surface.

 

Luna lifted her bow and fired shot after shot, tearing done the archers as Mara released her own barrage of energy cutting down the those left standing from the attack, Alistair holding the line with his shield to protect his comrades.

 

"Shite."

 

"Come." said Luna. "We must go, before they manage to ambush us."

 

They nodded and headed off. The tower of Ishal was the a military installation and built for storing weaponry and holding off enemies, but it was also small and confined, meaning the Darkspawn had few places to stage any sort of an ambush If Alistair held his shield around the corners of the storerooms, little could surprise the, his and Luna's weapons cutting deep into the black blood of the Darkspawn, Mara's spells keeping their comrades alive and fighting as well as cutting down the occasional beast.

 

The Darkspawn had taken the tower, but it was merely a token force without the strength the hold it against their counter assault. Soon they would reach the top.

 

* * *

 

 

Duncan cut down another Genlock, cutting off it's head and holding his second blade in a block against the blade of a Hurlock, lashing out with the first and driving it through his chest. He looked around, seeing Wardens and the king's men being cut down by the dozens. They were losing the battle.

 

He lifted his horn to his lips, and blew the signal for Alistair to light the signal. A signal that didn't come.

 

* * *

 

 

At the top of the tower, they found an Ogre, standing over the corpses of dozens of defeated soldiers, feasting upon their corpses. It held the dead high and roared at them, daring them to so much as try to bring it down.

 

“Luna,” said Alistair. “Take the right.”She obeyed, drawing her twin blades and rushing to the right of the beast. It roared and slammed both fists into the ground at her, but the little elf rolled out of it's path with ease.

 

Alistair took the advantage of it's missed attack, lunging forward and driving his blade into it's chest. It roared once more, lashing out at him. Alistair was forced to release his blade in order to roll out of it's grasp, letting it go as the beast stood. Luna took advantage of it's attention being diverted and drove her blade into the back of it's knee.

 

Mara drew as much mana as she could manage, and released it all in a surge of power, morphing itself into a bolt of crackling lightning. It drove itself into it's heart, surging again and again as it arced again and again through it's body. It fell to it's knees, body smouldering.

 

And with that, Alistair dashed for it as Luna drove both of her twin fangs into it's back, drawing his blade from it's chest and climbing it's shoulders that were near the ground, it using it's arms to hold itself from the ground. Then he stood atop the beast, driving the blade down into the back of it's skull, killing it where it stood, falling harmlessly onto the ground.

 

“That was… amazing.” He said to Mara. “How did you do that?”

 

“I don't know.” said Mara. “The Fade morphs your intention and emotion into magic when you're a mage. I just… did.”

 

“Enough!” shrieked Luna. “We must light the signal!”

 

“We've surely missed the signal by now.” said Alistair. “Light it!”

 

She grasped a torch from the sconce on the wall, and lit it with her flit and steel, taking one, two, three strikes to light, then tossing it into the pit where the signal was set up. It immediately exploded in fire, filling the whole of the skies in it's blaze.

 

* * *

 

 

General Loghain looked up from his horse to the skies as the tower of Ishal's signal fire blazed, telling him to charge. As expected, the Wardens' care that Cailan had put all their lives into had failed. Now any charge from them would be… futile. The horde was annihilating their armies beneath him and, seeing his countrymen and brethren slaughtered, he made a decision.

 

“Sound the retreat.” said Loghain to his second in command, Ser Cauthrien.

 

“But ser.” She said. “The signal has just been lit. Shouldn't we-”

 

“Are you questioning orders?” said Loghain. “Sound the retreat.”

 

“R-right at once.” She said and followed her order.

 

* * *

 

 

Duncan slew yet another Darkspawn. He had felled dozens of Darkspawn, and yet there were thousands. Where was the signal? If Alistair didn't signal for reinforcements soon...

 

The skies above exploded in fire from the signal, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had delayed them, it was lit now.

 

But then he turned his head, and his heart sun. None came from over the hill where Loghain's men were stationed. Any minute now, surely…

 

No help came.

 

A scream sounded above the rest, and Duncan turned just in time to see King Cailan battling the Darkspawn Vanguard. He ran for it, but it was useless. The Vanguard struck Cailan's sword, breaking it in two and sending it from his hand. Then he slammed the hilt of his battle axe into the King's chest, bringing him to his knees, then brought the blade down, dismembering the head of the King.

 

“ **Cailan!** ” Duncan shrieked, and the Vanguard looked up, a twisted smile playing across his lips. Then he threw the head of the king, which rolled and landed at Duncan's feet.

 

Duncan lashed forward and attacked, but the Vanguard blocked it's path, smiling. Thrusting it's axe up, it brought the head down, slamming it viciously into Duncan's chestplate, cracking it and cutting through to the skin underneath. He cried out in pain and brought his other blade to bear, slamming it's hilt into the Darkspawn's head, but it didn't so much as flinch.

 

He rammed the hilt again and again into it's skull, but it did nothing, and he didn't have the arm reach to make an actual swing. The Vanguard let one arm leave the axe, and drew a cruel and primitive machete from it's sheath, intending to finish the Warden-Commander.

 

With one of it's arms distracted, Duncan lashed and twisted, breaking from it's grasp even with the axe still buried in his chest. As he did so, however, Darkspawn archers had a clear shot and let loose their arrows. The mightiest warrior could have been felled by any of those arrows, and Duncan took many, pincushioning him, each one slamming deep and hard. And none of them brought him down. Instead he stepped towards the Vanguard, positioning it between himself and the archers.

 

The Vanguard was nowhere near as skilled with it's blade as with it's axe, but it was still physically more powerful than any mortal man and forced Duncan to duck under each of them, each one of his own retributive strikes doing less than wanted damage.

 

Then disaster struck. It hit Duncan in the forehead with the hilt of it's blade, stunning him before driving the blade over his head like a bat and knocking him off of his feet. Then it pulled the battleaxe from his chest and reared it up, ready to bring it down.

 

Desperately, Duncan looked to the tower where it's signal shone bright. In his final moments before the axe came down, he prayed that Alistair would survive.

 

* * *

 

 

“ **What?!** ” Alistair shrieked as they saw Loghain's men turn and quit the field. “ **Where in the hell are they going?!** ”

 

“Shite.” Mara swore. “Shite, shite, shite. What's happening?”

 

“They're leaving.” said Luna. “You… dumb… bastard shem'len.”

 

“We have to go help them!” Alistair cried. “Come on!”

 

“Alistair!” Mara shrieked. “Wait! We've… we've lost. We have to get out of here.”

 

“What?! What do you mean?”

 

“Alistair, there's a whole fucking legion down there, currently being slaughtered.” She insisted. “And about a million Darkspawn doing the slaughter. We can't save them by ourselves.”

 

“So we should just leave them to die?!” He shouted. “No, we're-”

 

He was interrupted by an arrow that let loose,  hitting him in the middle of the chest in a spot where his armour didn't cover. His eyes widened, blood spluttering out of her lower lip. They all turned to see a Darkspawn archer.

 

Luna reacted, letting an arrow of her own into it's head, and then they saw it. The horde had reached their tower, and there were dozens of them. She dashed for it, but it was of no use. An arrow found her in the chest as it had Alistair, and another on her arm, causing her to drop her bow, and a third sent her to the ground. Mara grasped for her staff, but was treated to the same volley, this time four arrows finding her. She fell to the ground, slamming her head into the stones as she did.

 

As darkness took her, she could see a massive figure land atop the tower. A dragon. It was a dragon. And the only Darkspawn dragon was…

 

It was an Archdemon. The Darkspawn had won


	7. The Call

The first thing Mara felt was agony, a raging pain that rang through her skull, reverberating again and again. She lay in darkness for the longest time, briefly wondering if this was death, but it hurt much to think, so she simply lay.

 

Eventually, firelight danced in the distance of the darkness and she realized that she was very much alive, but her eyes were shut. With a great, heaving effort, she pried her eyes open.

 

Above her was… a wooden roof? Where was the tower of Ishal? Alistair and Luna? The Darkspawn? Where was she?

 

It hurt impossibly much to sit up, every muscle in her body awakening and complaining, worse than after the Harrowing or the Joining.

 

“Ah, your eyes finally open.” A vaguely familiar voice said. “Mother shall be pleased.”

 

Mara looked around, her vision blurred, and then she saw who was speaking. It was Morrigan, the woman from the wilds they had encountered earlier, standing over her. It was then that she realized she was all but naked, dressed only in her smallclothes, thought she was relived as she felt the scarf Alistair had given her still around her neck.

 

“I...” Mara coughed, her throat utterly dry. “Remember you. Yo-you're the Witch from the Wilds. W-where are we?”

 

Morrigan smiled. “And it seems that your skull was not crackled quite so much as mother had thought. I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten. We are in the Wilds, where you were brought to have your wounds tended to. By the way, you are welcome. How does your memory fare? Do you remember what happened?”

 

Mara let her hand down to her chest where the arrows had struck, feeling her body utterly covered in bandages.

 

“N-no.” She said. “I don't. I remember… Darkspawn at the tower. It was… overrun, but we fought our way through. There was an ogre at the top, and we lit the beacon, but… no help ever came. We were cut down by archers. After that… no. I remember darkness, and nothing more.”

 

Morrigan nodded. “Mother managed to save you and your friends, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both still live. The man who was to save you on the field fled. Those he abandoned were massacred. The Darkspawn won the battle, I'm afraid. Your friends are… not taking it well.”

 

“And what happened to the Grey Wardens?” said Mara. “And the King? Was anyone else saved from the field?”

 

“They are all dead, I am afraid.” said Morrigan. “Your one friend, the man, has veered between guilt and denial since mother told him. The elf? She has been quiet, hasn't said a word.” They are outside, by the bonfire. Mother told me to send you to them when you awoke.”

 

“I...” Mara said slowly. “Thank you, Morrigan. For helping me. For… for everything. I remember the end of that battle, and I… I would be dead without you and your mother, I know. Thank you.”

 

“I… you are welcome.” said Morrigan. “Though it was mother who rescued you and did most of the work. I am certainly no healer myself.”

 

Then Mara stood, and Morrigan left her to get herself dressed once more. Her wounds still stung with every movement, but after remembering the horrors of the battle, she was immensely grateful for every feeling, even pain.

 

Pulling her gloves back on and fixing her scarf, she left the hut, following where Morrigan had gone. As she did, she was met by a scene of Morrigan and her mother talking, Alistair staring absently into the lake next to the hut, and Luna sitting in a tree above. As she exited the hut, Morrigan and her mother turned from her conversation and Morrigan reentered the hut behind Mara.

 

“See?” said Morrigan's mother. “Here is your final Warden. You worry too much, young man.”

 

“You...” whispered Alistair. “You're alive! I thought you were dead for sure!”

 

“I would have been,” She nodded. “But it seems that Morrigan's mother saved us. By some divine intervention.”

 

“This doesn't seem real.” Alistair said. “If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead atop that tower, surely.”

 

“Do not talk of me as though I am not here, young man.” said Morrigan's mother. “I may be old, but I still have ears left in my head.”

 

“I didn't mean...” Alistair said. “I wouldn't… b-but what do we call you? You had never told us your name.”

 

“Name's are pretty, but useless.” She said. “The Chasind folk down here call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do well enough for you.”

 

“ _The_ Flemeth?” asked Alistair in disbelief. “The one of the legends? Luna was right. You're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?”

 

“And what does that mean, young man?” said Flemeth. “I know a bit of magic and it has served you well, has it not? Would you rather I not have used my _scary_ witch powers to protect you? Hm?”

 

“If you _are_ Flemeth,” said Luna, jumping onto the ground beneath from the lowest branch. “You must be very powerful, and very old. My people tell legends of you,  Asha'belannar. The woman of many years, are you not?”

 

“That is your people's name for me.” said Flemeth. “And I must? Age and power are both very relative, it always depends upon the asker. Compared to you? Yes, on both counts.”

 

“If you are so powerful,” said Mara. “Why did you save us? Duncan is... was... our leader and the greatest among us, and Cailan was the King of Ferelden. Why us?”

 

“Because your commanders were in the middle of the battle, and because there is a light around you that cries out for your destiny to be fulfilled. I am very sorry for the loss of your Duncan and Cailan, but your grief must come later… the dark shadows before you take vengeance, as I have told Morrigan, as I was told before her. Duty must come now. Your duty has always been to unite the world against the Blight… or did that change when I wasn't looking?”

 

“Of course not!” cried Mara.

 

“But we _were_ fighting the Darkspawn!” said Alistair. “The King had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?”

 

“Now _that_ ,” said Flemeth. “Is an excellent question. The hearts of men hold shadows darker than any tainted creature.”

 

“The hearts of shem'len, you mean.” said Luna. “I should never have put stock in your humans.”

 

“Enough.” said Alistair. “We need a new plan. I'm not just going to walk away, not from this, but we can't just hope to hunt down and kill the Archdemon ourselves.”

 

“What is the Archdemon?” asked Mara. “If we're going to hunt it, I need to know more of it. It's some sort of dragon, no?”

 

“You saw it in your nightmares, after the Joining.” said Alistair. “We all do. It's large as a mountain, and black as the night without a moon. It's wings outstretched eclipse the sun. It commands the Darkspawn, using it's Vanguard as a vessel when it cannot be present. To kill it would leave the Darkspawn horde in disarray, leader and directionless. Easy prey.”

 

“There are Dragons that sleep beneath the surface.” said Flemeth. “Deep in complex prisons. It is said that your Maker cast down the pantheon of Old Gods of the Tevinter Imperium, in an age long since past. Whatever the truth, an Archdemon is one of these Dragons awoken and Tainted by the Blight and the Darkspawn. Believe the myth or not, history says that it is a fearsome and powerful beast, and only a fool ignores history.”

 

“Asha'belannar,” said Luna. “You are old and powerful, at least by our mortal standards. Could you help us battle the Blight?”

 

“Me?” laughed Flemeth. “I am but an old woman who lives in the Wilds. I know little of Blights and Darkspawn. You would do well to find better allies than an ancient woman living in a swamp, little one.”

 

“Well...” said Alistair after a moment of silence. “Whatever Loghain's insanity, he obviously thinks the Darkspawn to be a minor threat. We must convince everyone that this isn't the case.”

 

“And how do you intend to convince anyone of this?” asked Flemeth. “Unless you intend to convince this Loghain of his mistake?”

 

“He just betrayed his own King!” cried Alistair. “If Arl Eamon knew what just happened at Ostagar, he would be the first to call for his execution, surely.”

 

“The King spoke of Arl Eamon.” said Mara. “He said that he wasn't present at Ostagar. He would still have his armies, no?”

 

“Whoever this Eamon is.” said Luna. “How do we suppose he could do what the Wardens and the King's men could not? We would need more men than whatever this noble could scrounge up.”

 

“Perhaps these could help you?” Flemeth reached into the deep pockets of her robes, and pulled out the Warden treaties that they had been sent to the Wilds in the first place.

 

“The treaties!” Mara cried in disbelief. “How do you hold them?”

 

“Your Duncan did not hold them when the Darkspawn came.” said Flemeth. “I obtained them when I came for you. More than that… is simply an old woman's secrets.”

 

“Of course.” said Alistair. “I looked at those earlier. With those treaties, the Grey Wardens can demand aid from the Dwarves of Orzammar, the Dalish Elves and the Circle of Magi. They're obligated to help us during a Blight!”

 

“I may be old,” said Flemeth. “But Dwarves, Elves, Mages, this… Arl Eamon, and who knows who else… this sounds like an army worthy of battling a Blight to me.”

 

“Can we do this?” Mara asked. “I could convince the Circle to join us, I'm certain.”

 

“And the Dalish will follow me.” said Luna. “It's vir sulevanan. They will follow me if I need them. My clan's beyond our reach now, but there should be a company in the Brecillian Forests. I remember, they were having troubles getting mobile, and our scouts just before our clan left said they were still there.”

 

“I know I can convince Eamon to come with us.” said Alistair. “And the Dwarves… well, hopefully between us and these allies, we can figure out how to get them to join us.”

 

“I doubt it will be as easy as it seems here.” said Luna. “The Brecillian Forest is… four dozen miles away, and your Circle of Magi and Orzammar are that several times over.”

 

Flemeth laughed. “And when are things are as simple as we paint them?”

 

“It has always been the duty of the Grey Wardens to stand against the Blight.” Alistair held his shoulders up, and his head high, proud and tall. “And right now, we _are_ the Grey Wardens.”  


“So that's it then?” said Flemeth. “You are now off to be Grey Wardens? Ready to save the world?”

 

“As ready as we are ever going to be.” said Luna.

 

“Thank you for everything, Flemeth.” said Mara.

 

“No, no.” said Flemeth. “Thank _you_. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now, before you go, there is one final thing that I can offer you.”

 

As she spoke, Morrigan left their hut and approached the gathering. “ I'm about to put the stew on the pot, mother.” She said. “Are we to have three guests or none?”

 

“The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly girl.” said Flemeth. “And you are to be joining them.”

 

“Such a sha-” Morrigan began before the words hit her. “What?”

 

“You heard me girl.” laughed Flemeth. “The last time I looked, you still had ears.”

 

“If she doesn't want to come...” Mara started, but Flemeth cut her off.

 

“Her magic will be useful. More than that, she knows the Wilds, and she can help you evade the bulk of the Horde that still lingers.”

 

“And have I no say in this?” demanded Morrigan, indigence flaring in her eyes.

 

“As I remember,” said Flemeth. “You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years now. Here is your chance. You for you Wardens, consider this repayment for saving your lives.”

 

“Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth...” said Alistair. “But wouldn't this add to our problems? Outside of these woods, you are considered… apostates. If we're found...”

 

“If you did not wish for help from us illegal mages, young man,” said Flemeth. “Perhaps I should have left you in the tower.”

 

“It's not like it matters.” said Mara. “You think that if a Templar comes across me using magic, that he'll bother to check to see if I'm a Warden? If he doesn't, what are the odds he would check Morrigan?”

 

“Mother...” said Morrigan. “This is _not_ how I wanted to leave. I am not even ready, I-”

 

“You must be ready.” said Flemeth simply. “Alone, these three are going to unite all of Ferelden against the Darkspawn horde and, trust me, they are going to need every last man, woman and child on their side if they wish to defeat this… apocalypse. They need you, Morrigan. Without your help, they will not make it out of the Wilds , and if they fail then the Blight shall destroy everyone and everything. Even you and I can't hide forever..”

 

“I… understand.”

 

“And you, Wardens.” said Flemeth. “Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all else in this world. And I do it only because I know that you _must_ succeed, or all shall pass.”

 

“ _I_ understand.” said Luna, and all heads turned to her. “I… know what it's like to give away someone you love for what is best. On my life, she will not come to harm with us,  Asha'belannar.”

 

“Well then,” Morrigan said. “I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest that we move north and make village to the north called Lothering as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much of what we will need there.”

 

“Then we should be off.” said Alistair. “We've a lot of ground to cover, and little time to do it.”

 

As they began for the entrance to the Wilds, following Morrigan through sunken byways and flooded swamps, Mara remembered one of the songs from the books of the Circle, one of ancient warriors standing against the odds, seeming most fitting. On their path, she sang:

 

_You know you fight for God,_

_And you believe it’s right._

_ To risk your home  and your life, _

_ T o face the evil night.  _

 

_We men of the south,_

_We have suffered too long._

_On a path seldom walked by man,_

_Distant echoes are all that remains._

 

 _War will weather the souls of the lost._  
Stand together whatever the cost.  
Shields will falter and many will fall.  
Time has come for us all,  
To answer the call.


	8. Lothering

After many hours, they finally found their way from the Wilds, finding their way onto the Imperial Highway of Ferelden which, according to Morrigan, led directly up and into the village of Lothering, a large trading settlement where they would find what they needed for their adventure.

 

On the road that lead to the settlement, Mara was jumped upon by a Mabari dog, a coat of grey and white upon his back, tackling her to the ground and licking her face.

 

“What… are… ech!” Mara spluttered as the dog licked her, turning her head to the side so she could at least speak, pushing him off of her. “And what are you, little one?” She wiped her mouth. “I think this is the dog I helped at Ostagar.”

 

“He must have been looking for you.” said Alistair. “He's probably… chosen you, as his owner. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”

 

“Does this mean we are going to have this mangy beast following us around now?” asked Morrigan. “Lovely.”

 

“He's not mangy!” said Alistair, leaning down to scratch the dog's coat.

 

“If you like him so much.” offered Mara. “You can take him. I'm… not sure I can take care of him, myself.”

 

“Me?” asked Alistair. “No, no. I can't take care of a dog. I can barely take care of myself.”

 

“So many comments come to mind,” said Morrigan. “I cannot even begin to choose.” At that, Luna shuttered, looking away and towards the ground, trying not to think on the implications.

 

“At any rate,” Alistair ignored Morrigan. “He must remember you helping him. He's imprinted on you,, far as I can tell. Lucky you.”

 

“Hmm,” said Mara. “Well, I can't just ignore an animal who needs me. Come on then, boy.”

 

“You should name him.” said Luna. “The Dalish Halla respond better when they are named, perhaps these… dogs, are much the same.”

 

Mara thought a minute, unsure of what she could possibly call a living creature. But then she remembered the man who had given her another chance at life, her freedom from the Circle's prison in which she was trapped.

 

“Duncan. I'll call him Duncan.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

They had started early in the day, and they found the village of Lothering shortly after midday, getting off of the Imperial Highway and seeing the settlement laid out before them.

 

“Well, here it is.” said Alistair after a day's worth of silence, only having spoken on their encounter with the newly named Duncan. “Lothering. Pretty as a painting, isn't she?”

 

“Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you?” asked Morrigan. “Falling on your own blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?”

 

“Is my being upset too much to understand?” asked Alistair. “Haven't you ever lost anyone dear to you? What if you mother died?”

 

“Before, or after I stopped laughing?” smiled Morrigan.

 

“Oh, I get it.” said Alistair. “This is the part where we are shocked to discover that you've never had a friend in the whole of your life, is that it?”

 

“I can be friendly when I desire to.” She smiled at him. “Sadly for you, wishing to be more intelligent does not make it so.”

 

“Shut up, both of you. If you have something to say,” hissed Luna. “Say it. Otherwise, stay quiet. Listening to you two go back and forth gives me a headache.”

 

“What I was going to say,” said Alistair. “Is that I think we should discuss where we're going, first. Lothering is… sort of a crossroads of where we are headed.”

 

He pulled a map of Ferelden from his pack, and laid it on the ground where thy all knelt around it. Lothering sat at the far southern end of Ferelden, directly in the middle. The Brecillian Forest Luna had mentioned was directly to the east, and Redcliffe was directly to the west. The Circle of Magi was to the northwest, close to Redclife, and Orzammar sat at the farthest northwest corner of the country.

 

“I presume we are headed to these four places?” said Mara. “Wasn't that the plan? Go and get allies from those places, hold against the Darkspawn?”

 

“But where do we go first?” asked Alistair. “Lothering is dead in the middle of the country, in the far south. It's something of a crossroads, since we can do directly east we will hit the Brecillian Forest. If we go straight west, we'll hit Redcliffe. Those should probably be our first targets, as they're the closest. To get to the Circle of Magi, we'd do best to go to Redcliffe first and go north, and Orzammar should come after that, I would think. We should do those last.”

 

“And we need to pick one to start with.” completed Mara.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“We should head east.” said Luna. “The Dalish will be our strongest ally, I know it. If we can get them now, the rest of the trip will be easier.”

 

“I disagree.” said Alistair. “I think that Redcliffe is the better option. Arl Eamon is a powerful political ally, and he won't stand for what Loghain did. He could help us rally the rest of our allies, maybe even get us faster ways to get to them.”

 

“And if your Arl Eamon doesn't help us?” said Luna. “Then we've just wasted our time, time that we don't have. I _know_ that my people will help us. I know. ”

 

“Morrigan,” said Mara. “What do you say?”

 

“I say we go after your enemy directly.” said Morrigan. “Find this man, this Loghain, and kill him. Then the rest of our business collecting allies can be done in safety.”

 

“Yes,” said Alistair. “He most certainly would _never_ see that coming. And it's not like he has the advantage of his army still left and-”

 

“I was asked for my opinion and I gave it.” said Morrigan. “If your wish is to come up with reasons why something cannot be done, we will stand here until the Darkspawn are upon us.”

 

“Mara, what do you think?” asked Alistair.

 

Mara raised an eyebrow. “Why is it up to me? I don't have any clue.”

 

“Well,” Alistair sighed. “I don't know either. None of us do. I'll go wherever you decide. Arl Eamon is a good man, but I don't know for certain that he's where we should go. I'm not going to fight you about it if we decide to go elsewhere.”

 

Mara thought a long moment, sighing as she realized that it was up to her, the person least reasonable to decide such a thing.

 

“Well...” She said. “I don't know. The Darkspawn horde is going to be cutting north, no? And the only real path from one side of the country to the other is Lothering. If we go to the Dalish forest first, then we can go west and get all three on that side at one time. Does that sound reasonable?”

 

They all nodded, and Alistair put his map back into his pack. “Fair enough.” He said. “Let's get going, then. First of all, we're going to need supplies if we want to last more than a day on the road.”

 

Lothering was a simple village, with simple people inside. They were people without knowledge of Blights or Darkspawn, people who worried only if their crops be finished growing on time, or if the animals would grow sick when winter came. They were the people who would be struck the hardest by the Blight, as they were woefully ignorant of darkness.

 

The village was small, and the streets were filled with people fleeing from the path of the Darkspawn, many women and children huddled in the ditches off the road, watching up at anyone who passed by with wary eyes. Mara briefly wondered what it would be like, to have been here before the end of all things. When the wheat fields would flourish, when the river would be flowing and sparkling in a spring's sun.

 

But it wasn't as if it mattered. Darkness would soon close, and this place would cease to exist. Death was coming for everyone and everything.

 

Sitting just outside the market stalls where they had intended to purchase their supplies sat a cage. Inside of the cage sat a man in peaceable meditation, shackles around his hands. Even sitting down, he was nearly Mara's height, and it was clear that standing he would tower over any of them. He wore simple clothes and had white hair, tied around the back of his head like an ancient warrior and a rough, unkempt beard on his face. His eyes were han purple, dark and intelligent.

 

“Shok ebasit hissra. Maraas shokra.” Spoke the figure in a low, reverent voice. “Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun.”

 

“Excuse me?” said Mara, feeling immense sadness from the figure. “Were you speaking to me?”

 

“I was not.” said he. “The world does not revolve around you, girl. You would do well to remember that.”

 

“Then I shall.” said Mara. “Who are you?”

 

“A prisoner.” said he. “I'm in a cage, am I not? I have been placed here by the Chantry. IF you are not here to illuminate me any father, I will not amuse you any more that I have the other humans. Leave me in peace.”

 

“I'm sorry.” said Mara. “I was simply being pleasant.”

 

“You mock me.” said he. “That or you show manners I have not come to expect among your kind. Very well, I am Sten of the Beresaad, the vanguard, of the Qunari peoples.” Then he hung his head. “Though it matters little, now. I shall be dead soon enough.”

 

“This is a proud and powerful creature,” said Luna. “And he sits here, waiting for death. If you cannot see a use for him, please, please release him for mercy's sake alone.”

 

“What have you done to deserve this fate?” said Mara.

 

“I have been convicted of murder.” He said simply. “Have the townspeople not spoke of it?”

 

“No.” said Mara. “Who did you kill?”

 

“The people of a farmhold.” said Sten. “Eight humans, in addition to the children.”

 

“That's horrible!” cried Mara.

 

“I agree.” said Sten. “And that is why I sit here, waiting for the Darkspawn.”

 

“Well,” said Alistair. “Are you guilty?”

 

“Are you asking me if I feel guilt,” asked Sten. “Or if I am responsible for the deed? To both, yes. However I feel, whatever I've done, my life is forfeit now.”

 

“If you feel guilty,” asked Luna. “Why did you do it?”

 

“Either you have an enviable memory,” said Sten. “Or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret.”

 

“It must have been difficult to capture you.” said Luna.

 

“It is never difficult to capture a prey who surrenders, one that wishes to be caught.”

 

“You wished to be caught?” asked Mara.

 

“I waited days for the knights to arrive, to see my failing.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I wished to.”

 

“A penitent man is caged and left to be eaten alive by monsters.” said Morrigan. “A fine example of the Chantry's mercy, no?”

 

“How long have you been in there?” asked Mara.

 

“Twenty days now.” said Sten. “I will not last much longer. Another week or so, at best.”

 

“Are you interested in seeking atonement?” asked Mara.

 

“Death will be my atonement.”

 

Mara glanced at her companions, uncertain. His crimes were awful, of that they all knew, but he was penitent, and wise, not to mention seemingly powerful. They couldn't just leave him in the cage. “There are other ways to redemption.” She said at last.

 

“Perhaps.” said Sten. “What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?”

 

“You could defend this land against the Blight.” Mara offered. “You could follow us. What greater achievement is there than being there to protect the world when it needs saviours the most?”

 

“The Blight?” He looked up. “Are you a Grey Warden, then?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Interesting.” said Sten, standing for the first time. He towered over all of them, as expected, eight feet in height, close to twice Luna's height. “My people have heard tales of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill, of your legend. Perhaps this meeting was meant to be. So be it. Set me free, and I shall find redemption as I follow you against the Blight.”

 

“I can get that lock open.” offered Luna. “It's a… skill, taught to the Dalish scouts in case we stumble across locked or trapped chests in ancient ruins.”

 

“Very well.” Mara turned, and motioned. “You do that. The rest of you: We need supplies. Food, water, tends or bedrolls, as well as equipment for Sten. Come.”

 

As she perused the wares of the closest merchants stall, picking breads and meats that wouldn't spoil, a man approached behind her, tapping her on the shoulder.

 

“Oh!” She said. “Am I in your way?”

 

“No.” He said, shaking his head. He had dirty, greasy black hair that hadn't been cut in month and wide, young brown eyes that said too much. More a pup than a wolf. She could feel fear in his heart, and darkness. “I was… was looking for you.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Mara smiled. “What can I do for you?”

 

“You...” He spoke in a shaky voice, uncertain of itself. “You said you are a Grey Warden? When you were talking to that… that thing, right?”

 

“Yes.” said Mara, smiling. “Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

 

“I'm afraid so.” said the man. “I… there's a bounty on your head, f… for killing the king. I don't know if you killed King Cailan, and Maker forgive me but I don't care. Your… that money could fill so many hungry bellies. I… I'm so sorry.”

 

He stepped forward, and a butchers knife in his hand that she hadn't seen earlier flared. Mara grabbed at his hand, holding back desperately, her heart lurching as he did. She screamed in terror, as did those surrounding her, a collective gasp coming from them. Distantly, she could hear Alistair call, but something told her he would be there too late.

 

The man overpowered her, driving his blade home into her shoulder. A shrill cry rang out, and she felt like being pierced by a dart of poisoned ice, swooning at the pain and loss.

 

In a moment, help would be there. Alistair and Morrigan were on the other end of the market, and Luna and Sten were on close. But not close enough. In less than a moment, her throat would be slit again, and there would be none to save her this time.

 

He ripped the dagger from her shoulder, and she grasped the hilt, pushing back on him with all of her might, death fuelling a final, valiant assault. She had not survived Ostagar, not come this far just to die here and now. He shrieked in surprise, falling back at the unexpected surge of resistance. Driven into a desperate frenzy, she grabbed the knife in his own hand, and drove it down. His scream died on his lips as the blade was driven home.

 

The boy's eyes widened, and blood poured from his lower lip as he tried to cry out. And in that moment, Mara was forever changed. With her pure empathy, she felt his hopes, his dreams, his fear. He wanted to be a musician, playing in the streets of Orlais. He was in love with a farm girl down the street who worked in the barns.

 

And, in a moment, all of that went dark and cold. He was gone forever. He became like the Tranquil, cold and lifeless, now a husk.

 

Her hands shook as she lifted them to her lips in horror, tasting blood on them and unsure of whose it was.  She had… she had taken a life! Not that of one of the Darkspawn monsters without thought or emotion, but a living, breathing person, with life and love in his heart. What had she done?

 

“Mara?”

 

The words echoed in her ears, sounding as if they had come from an infinitely long hallway. She looked around in a daze, seeing blurred images in her shock and her tears.

 

Then she ran, as fast as her feet would carry her. She didn't know where she was going, it didn't matter. But she couldn't stay here.

 

In her haze, she saw the Chantry. A place of forgiveness and peace. Inside, she found a small, unoccupied corner where a statue of their saviour, Andraste, stood, holding her scales that weighed the hearts of men. Mara fell to her knees, clasped her hands, begging for forgiveness, for not allowing her own life to be taken from her.

 

“And so is the Golden City blackened 

With each step you take in my Hall.

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.

You have brought Sin to Heaven

And doom upon all the world.”

 

She sobbed, resting her head on her arms. This wasn't real, this couldn't be real. _Please, please for the love of the Maker, please don't let this be real._

 

“And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars,  
We dreamed up false gods, great demons  
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,  
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you.”

 

The words of the Chant spoke of how innocence was lost from man, how they had turned their backs and forsworn that which had created them, but it also spoke of ancient heroes who vowed for redemption of their mistakes. Of those who did not forget.

 

For what she had done was unforgivable, she was certain. Seeing a man, more a boy than a more, a pup rather than a wolf, to grow old and dark through her action. He had become like the Tranquil, except no longer alive. What could condemn a man to such a fate? What crime was there that was worth such punishment? She wished she had given up her struggle and let it end. Surely being murdered was better than living with having murdered.

 

“Excuse me.” Came a soft, gentle voice, and she looked up, tears streaming down her face.

 

Next to her stood a woman dressed in the traditional Chantry robes. She had fiery red hair that was cut to her jawline, her skin pale and creamy white. She was built slender, with bright blue eyes that shone in the darkness.

 

She knelt beside Mara, laying a comforting hand on her back. “But you seem troubled. Can I help you?” Her voice was accented, from the west where Orlais was. Her accent was exotic and foreign, but soft and warm, inviting.

 

Mara took a shaky breath, turning her head back to the statue that stared down at her. “I… have taken a life. I am… so, so sorry.” She hung her head, unable to meet the forgiveness in the eyes of Andraste before her.

 

“What happened, child?” She seemed uncomfortable in calling the woman a child, she herself being only a few years older than the mage, but it was tradition.

 

“I...” A tear slipped down her cheek, rubbing it away as the pain and regret found her once more, suffocating her in a bleak, inescapable haze. “Was attacked by a man, wielding a knife. I… he tried to kill me, but I… killed him first.”

 

“You poor thing.” She murmured warmly, wrapping Mara in a comforting embrace. “And tell me: why do you pray for forgiveness for protecting yourself?”

 

Mara sighed, laying her head on the woman's shoulder as her embrace was offered. “It wasn't his fault that he attacked. He tried to kill me because of some bounty on my head, for being a Grey Warden. I… don't know the details, but he… he only wanted to feed his family. And now he lies dead, at my hand. No more hopes, no more dreams, no more love. Just… gone.”

 

“You are a Warden?” asked the sister.

 

“Yes.” said Mara. “If you wish to collect the same price, I will not stop you.”

 

“Of course I won't.” said the sister. “These halls teach a message of love and forgiveness. Whoever you are, whatever your mistakes, you are loved within these walls. What is your name?”

 

“Marilina. My name is Marilina Amell. You may call me Mara.”

 

“My name is Leliana.” She introduced. “I am, or I was, one of the Chantry Sisters.”

 

“No longer?” said Mara.

 

“No.” said Leliana. “It is… a long story. I was just leaving when I saw you here, and you looked as though you needed me. As a Warden, you will be battling Darkspawn, no? That is your duty?”

 

“I suppose.” said Mara, meeting Leliana's eyes. “The Darkspawn, at least, I've no problem with killing. But why?”

 

“After what happened and what I've heard of the battle at Ostagar,” said Leliana. “You will need all the help that you can get, no?” Mara nodded. “That's why I'm coming along.”

 

“I'm sorry, sister...” Mara trailed off, utterly confused. “But… what?”

 

“I...” Leliana blushed. “I know that sounds utterly insane, but… the Maker has told me to come with you. He sent me a dream-a-a vision, that the Wardens that he smiles so sadly on needed help, needed me. Look at the people here. They are lost in dispair, and this darkness, this chaos… will spread without the Wardens. Surely the Maker doesn't want that. What you do, what you are meant to do, is for the best of everyone. Let me help you, please.”

 

“I appreciate the thought,” said Mara, wary even though something in the back of her head whispered to let this woman follow. “But we will need more than just prayers.”

 

“I was not born in the Chantry.” Leliana insisted. “And I had a… colourful life before this. Please, I would lend my help to you to stop this insanity. If I can do anything to stop this death and ruin, I will. If that means picking up a sword to follow you, then that is what I will do.”

 

Mara gazed into Leliana's eyes, and in them she saw truth and honestly. She meant what she said, even if she said it bluntly. In her heart was no guile, even if she presented herself in a way that seemed less than sane. “Very well.” She said. “Come with us, then.”

 

“Thank you.” said Leliana. “I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down, I promise.”

 

Mara looked back up to the statue of Andraste, staring down at her with her scales, and her heart felt lighter now. Perhaps everything had happened as it was meant to.

 

Leliana helped Mara from the Chantry, meeting the others in the maker place, though her eyes didn't dare look to where the guardsmen were disposing the body. She introduced Leliana and, while the others raised an eyebrow, they said nothing against her decision. They had picked up armour and a blade for Sten, as well as supplies. Leliana picked out a bow and a pair of daggers as well as leathery armour with chain that ran down her chest, and fabric at her neckline depicting a silver blade of Mercy.

 

With two more followers to their cause and food in their bellies, and with Mara's heart weighing her more than her pack, the final remnants of the Wardens set off for the Brecillian Forest, ready to be Wardens.


	9. Andaran atish'an

Mara looked up from where she had been staring into it, and up at the faces around the camp. She could feel them and their hearts. Her mind began to meld with theirs as she felt their thoughts, thinking and seeing the world exactly how they did. Her vision began to blur and double, her mind sinking into theirs. A moment later, she blinked, and saw through new eyes.

_Luna... depressive, broken and in mourning. For the life that had been taken from her, from us, from me, for the missing half that will never return. My thoughts were constantly on Tamlen, never straying save for when they needed to think on where I am to step. To live without him is a damnation worse than to not live at all. Being forced to fight with these damnable Shem'len is the worst punishment I can dream of, and I curse Blackwall's name for not allowing me to die with dignity among my people. The only relief that there is to be felt is that one day I shall rejoin him, and I will see him again._

_Alistair... terrified out of his mind, and tired. So very tired. His thoughts… my thoughts, often flash with thoughts of Duncan and the other Wardens, with the painful pant of guilt at the knowledge that my brothers and my betters didn't. I didn't deserve to be here, not if Duncan didn't. I know that, for all intents and purposes, that I have be their leader now, that I couldn't just leave the others lost and alone. But I can't. I'm not strong enough to carry such a burden, and that right belongs to Duncan and the other Wardens, not to me._

_Leliana… Leliana is..._

Mara gasped in a shard of icy pain and shuddered, grasping a hand at her temples where the pain panged from a slow suffering of a sudden headache that crept from where unseen shadows. She could assume the point of view of other people, even those that scared her. She became so close to them, that she often couldn't tell the difference between her and whoever she felt. Sometimes it even felt like they were doing the same things at different times. Even when so far separated, she could still feel it when others would sleep or shower, like she was a stranger in her own body. Her mind was wrapped around others so completely that you lose herself to them. What if she lost time and hurt herself, or someone else? What she had was a brilliant gift that made her so incredibly compassionate and coercive, but it was killing her. She empathised so completely with other people that she began to lose herself. How long could she be someone else before she stopped being herself?

“Mara?” The voice sounded from what felt like a tunnel, millions of miles away in a blaring pang of a haze. “Mara?”

She blinked and looked up to find everyone staring at her. She blinked and looked away, embarrassed. “S-sorry. I'm… I'm fine, just… been a long couple of days.”

Alistair nodded, understanding. On top of everything else, they had barely gotten a fire going with the soaked wood that they had, and they had no money for tents after their weaponry and provisions. They were sodden and freezing under the unforgiving moon, and they were hungry. Mara, looked away, and for the first time was grateful for the lack of fire, that no one could see the embarrassed blush on her cheeks.

None of them could sleep, it was much too cold. Icy fingers of death were curled under her tunic, clawing at her skin. So instead they sat around what little a fire they had, frozen and miserable.

“Luna?” Alistair asked after the longest time, no longer wearing his armour as it was too cold to touch, instead in only a plain shirt and dark leather pants. “Can I ask you something?” Luna didn't answer, or ever look up, so he simply continued after a moment. “You don't seem to like me very much. Have I… done something wrong?”

“You are a human.” Luna hissed with disdain, not meeting his eyes.

“And that's… bad?” Alistair raised an eyebrow, utterly confused.

“Yes.” She hissed, talking short in an effort to get him to drop the subject.

“Why?”

Luna hissed and set down her bow she had been tending to. “You want to hear why you shems are the most _despicable_ people in all of this world? Fine.” She spat the words as if they were poisoned, filthy. “When I was… dread wolf's teeth, maybe sixteen summers? I came back from a hunting trip to find half of my clan dead or taken away by  a slaving party, among them my little sister. My parents were already dead, killed by _your_ people, and she was all I had left.”  She picked up her bow again, staring at it longingly, her only friend left in the whole of the world. “She... I tracked her down. Southeast, near the river. They were selling her. That place was swarming with you people, hundreds of them, bidding for things no one has any sort of a right to. What they do to women... that's worse than death.” She looked up at Alistair, glaring him down with eyes made of ice and fire, hatred in her heart, her gaze as if he were just as responsible as the men who had stolen her family. “All I had was my bow. I couldn't stop them. So, I pulled back an arrow, and… did the only thing I… the only thing I had the strength to.” She lowered her head, dropping her bow too, like every other dream she had held. Defeated, bitter, she remembered how she had killed her only piece of family.

There was tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, Luna glaring down at the ground and Alistair shuffling nervously, uncomfortable. But their heads snapped over when  Mara gasped, and collapsed,  trying desperately to breathe . For she had been within Luna's memories, unintentionally, and she felt her agony, her sorrow, and it nearly broke her. She couldn't breathe, for the pain was too much, falling on the ground and tearing at her throat, crying, sobbing so much that she could barely see. Alistair rushed to her side,  raising her head onto his knee to help her breathe as she gasped for air.

Eventually, it stopped, and she lay there, looking up at the stars, trying not to remember, just like Luna. The camp fell in to an awkward silence, all except Morrigan worried over the young woman, but none said anything. Alistair grabbed a water skin for her, but she was in no condition to drink. So instead he held her chest as the gasping died down.

“You know,” Alistair murmured after the gasping and coughing died down and Mara fell silent, but still awake. “I'm a bastard. And before anyone has a comment,” He glared at Morrigan. “I mean the fatherless kind. Eamon, the Arl of Redcliffe, he took me in after my mother died, as his. He… he gave me a home when no one else would. It was...it was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, I didn't sleep on silk sheets in the Keep or anything, but… close enough. And then, one day, he brought an Orlesian noblewoman home to be his wife. She _despised_ me, probably thought I was his bastard. Once, I… I broke one of her plates, on accident. Just a stupid game, but she was _furious_. She broke another over my  head,pretty sure I still have bits of it in my scalp and there was… so, so much blood. Everywhere. So much that you could taste the metal. But I endured it. For Eamon. Because I loved him, and because he had taken me when no one else would. And, in the end, it didn't matter.A week later, he shipped me off to be a templar. Without so much as a goodbye. Just… gone, away from his life. Not because I had done anything wrong, but just because my existence was… inconvenient.” He looked up, meeting her eyes seriously. “The world is a cruel place, Luna, one that's built by killers. And it's never kind to anyone, not just you.”

Luna glared at him, anger, hatred heaving in her chest. “Why are we even talking about this? It's over. My little sister's dead, Tamlen's dead, the Grey Warden's are dead, soon enough the whole of the fucking world will be dead.”  She sighed heavily, not meeting his eyes. “I have sealed myself and I have cried my tears. The past is the past, and the future is all that's worth discussing.”

But even as she retreated into herself and away from the others, realization clapped in Mara thought of the thing that should have been said to her when she lay choking on that bitter darkness, the same bitter darkness that Luna swallowed every day, and knew that her fellow Warden needed to hear it in turn.

“You think that you're on your own. You think that you really… really fucked it up this time, that you've made a mistake so big that you can't get past it. You… are not alone. And you never were. The only person who hasn't realized that is you.”

Luna looked up a bit, and met the genuinely kind gazed of her sister-in-arms. There was no guile in her eyes, no malice. Only… forgiveness. For a moment, it cracked into her armour and she felt welcomed, loved, for the first time since she had left her clan. But then she stood, and stormed off. She wasn't ready to be forgiven.

* * *

 

The next day, after hours of Luna's careful tracking, the party found the Dalish camp at the mouth of the Brecilian Forest, and were stooped immediately by arrows trained on them from the trees above. Mara and Luna raised their hands in a show of non-hostility, which Alistair followed suit a moment later, though Morrigan and Sten left their hands down.

“Hold!” A voice, strong and commanding, called, and the arrows lowered. A woman in green and brown scale armour approached form the treeline, tattoos similar to Luna's across her face. “Andaran atish’an, sister.” She greeted to Luna curtly, having noted her face tattoos. “You bring strange travelling companions. What business do you have here?”

“Not here on Dalish business,” said Luna. “We're here as Grey Wardens.”

“Grey Wardens?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. “I didn't know that they would take our kind. Well, I… suppose this is something the Keeper will have to deal with himself.” She shuffled nervously, unsure of herself, but then nodded and beaconed. “With me.”

“Didn't know Dalish could be Grey Wardens?” Alistair tilted his head, a pitch in his voice as whispered. “Didn't you say you were Dalish? Wouldn't they have known what happened to you?”

“That's like saying that you're Ferelden, so everyone in the country must know that you're a Warden.” Luna hissed. “There's hundreds of Dalish clans. Mine was moving north when I left. This forest was our home for a long time, but this clan came here after we moved. Now quiet.”

The woman in armour led them to a grim set man with a bald head and a staff slung around his back like Mara. His face tattoos were a different design from theirs,  intricate and complex, covering most of his face, likely because he was apparently a different role, since both women appeared to be hunters.  Behind him was another woman, with tattoos  different still , hers simple and unobtrusive, and she too wore a staff.

“Who are these strangers, Mithra?” He asked to the armoured woman. “I've precious little time to spend on strangers today.”

“Our sister and her companions say they are Grey Wardens.” The huntress, Mithra, motioned at them. “And wishes to speak with the clan. I thought it best to leave any sort of decision to you.”

“Wisely done.” He nodded, motioning. “Ma Serannas. You may return to your post.” She bowed, and left them. “Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan, it's guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?”

“I am Luna, of Clan Sabrae.” She bowed. “This is Mara of the Magi Circle, Alistair, Morrigan and Sten. We are the Fereldan Grey Wardens.”

“Of what's left of them.” muttered Alistair.

Mara elbowed him in the rips, and bowed as Luna had, though rather clumsily. “It's an honour to meet you.”

“Manners?” He asked, raising a curious eyebrow. “From a Shem'len? Interesting. And what might have brought you here? I suppose you aren't just here to spread news of the Blight? I had already sensed the corruption in the south and heard the news of that battle. Your news would be wasted on me.”

“If you don't mind me asking,” said Luna. “Why are we still here if you knew of the Blight? You would be one in the way of the Darkspawn if they went East. Why didn't you move the clan if you knew of it?”

“I would have already taken us north by now if we had the ability to move. Sadly, we do not.”

“So you've had your own troubles?” laughed Alistair. “What are the odds?” He was met again by another sharp elbow in the ribs by Mara, as well as a kick in the back of the leg from Morrigan, who just wanted in on the beating down of Alistair.

“Your advice for trouble is to run from it?” asked Sten, staring with cold eyes at both Luna and Zathrian. “Interesting.”

Zathrian shook his head. “I imagine you're here about the treaty we made to your organization centuries ago?” Luna nodded. “Unfortunately, we might not be able to help you. This will require some… explanation.  Please, c ome with me.”

Zathrian guided them to a place that was something of a medical centre in the corner of the camp, guarded by armed men who looked more of farmers or ranchers than warriors. There lay nearly two dozen elves, writhing and groaning in agony. Some of them looked well except for the pain they were clearly in, while others had holes and gnashes in their skin, and blood everywhere.

“Our clan came to the Brecilian Forest, like we do whenever we come to this part of Ferelden.” said Zathrian. “We are always wary for the dangers of the forest, but we did not expect werewolves would by lying in wait, specifically for us. They… ambushed us, and though we managed to drive them back, the damage was done. Almost all of our warriors are here as we speak, dying slowly. Even with all of my magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to kill our own so they do not suffer further as beasts. The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we cannot help you like this. If they attack again, we've almost no one to defend us.”

“That's awful!” cried Mara. “Is there anything we can do to help?” There was pain and agony _everywhere_ in this place, and it _hurt_.

“I think there is.” He nodded. “Though I hate to put any more of us in danger. I know of… well, it's… a legend only, but in this forest lies a great wolf, that they call Witherfang. It was within him that the curse of Werewolves began, and through his blood that it has spread. If he is killed and you could bring me his heart, what brings him the black blood of the curse, I might be able to break it's hold. But this task… we are in no position to spend any more of our own at it.”

“Wait a moment,” said Alistair. “You said this _might_ work? What if it doesn't?”

“I can't guarantee that it will work as I suspect.” Zathrian admitted. “But it is the only hope we have left. Beyond that, there is no cure for what's happened to my people other than death. I will not put down my own if I don't have to, and we cannot help you if all of our warriors are dead.”

“We'll help.” Mara promised, drawing a look from Luna. She was feeling the pain of regret in his heart, almost certainly from knowing that he had led his people here to such agony, and there was so much pain here. It didn't matter if they could help them, if she could help alieve this then there was no other choice. “We'll… we'll try to find this werewolf for you.”

“I must warn you of the Forest.” said Zathrian. “It has a long history of carnage and… well, murder, and awful things committed within it. When there is so much death and suffering, the Veil separating our world from the spirit realm becomes thin. It's full of odd occurrences and strange things. You must be careful. But if you can help us… we will owe you so much. Now, I must return to caring for my people. Creators guide you.”

* * *

 

“So, what do you guys think?” Alistair asked when they were safely out of earshot of the Keeper. “Do you think we should help them?”

“Of course we will.” Luna looked shocked, as if it weren't a real question. “You don't want to just abandon them to die here alone, do you?”

“I don't know.” Alistair admitted. “Something seems… wrong, here. I don't know. But… super intelligent werewolves jumping them, knowing where they're going? That's not normal.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I was raised by dogs, so maybe I am the one to do this.”

“Which is exactly why we can't just leave them like this.” insisted Luna. “Do you really think they can take these… things by themselves?”

“If they cannot defend themselves,” Sten interjected. “Why do we want them for allies? It seems to me that the Blight is a greater danger than wolves. You promised repeatedly that they would be our greatest allies, and were filled with peerless warriors and strategists, but I see none.”

“He's a point.” said Morrigan. “No matter how powerful these creatures he's drawn from fairy tales might be, the Darkspawn are almost certainly to be worse. How do you suppose they will fare when faced with a real challenge?”

“I can't believe you!” Luna shouted. “You all want to just abandon injured and dying people when they need you the most?” She hissed, looking away. “Of course you do.”

“I don't.” said Mara, and Luna looked up. “We can't just leave these people to their misery. I'm for helping them on sheer virtue of helping them when they need us. The Dalish are a proud people, and if they're willing to accept the help of humans, then we know that they're really desperate.”

“I agree.” Leliana said. “I came with you to do the Maker's work, and whether that's killing Darkspawn or protecting people who need us, it needs to be done, and we're the only ones who can help.”

“Ah yes,” Morrigan complained. “Let us help everyone in the whole of the world who asks for our help, regardless of if they can do anything in return. The Darkspawn will indeed be impressed when they find that we've helped kittens from trees.”

In spite of their protests, the party left for the forests. Nothing could deter Luna from helping the people that she held so close to her heart, and the compassion of Mara and Leliana was enough to convince the others, albeit reluctantly.

Luna led the other's with her bow within easy reach, but peaceably slung across her shoulder. The forest called to her heart and giant gnarled trees as old as time reached out to her once more. She felt almost a crude, mocking sadness for those in the cities who had sold their freedoms for safety. For that, they would never know the freedom of running though the undergrowth like a wolf, or inhaling the cool morning air before the sunlight drove the fog from the ground.

She was home.

The forest was absolutely gorgeous, with a sparkling river that flowed through the whole of the path and it was filled with beautiful trees dense in the undergrowth. Sunlight shone through the trees, shining through the whole of the forest, and it brought a smile to the faces of all but Morrigan and Sten, warmth and safety.

However, soon the river that marked their entrance into the forest was gone, and none of them knew where they were. The forest was dense with trees that looked the same, and rivers that told them nothing.

Their problems were compounded by the paths that were incomplete, especially in places where trails started and stopped at random. They had no sense of where they had been or where they had come from.

On top of that, they could feel the thin veil that Luna had warned them of was apparent, like a headache itching at the back of their heads, confusing and disorienting them.

“You know,” said Alistair. “I hate to say it, but I think we might be lost.”

“We are _not_.” Luna folded her arms, indignant at the thought. She had been in these forests before with her clan, a hundred times at least. Surely she couldn't be lost. “We came in… that way.”

“We're lost.” Mara agreed, looking around. “I think we've passed that tree a dozen times.”

“It's a forest, Mara.” Luna hissed. “It's full of trees. It's nothing but trees.”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it.” Mara sighed. “And I swear it's the same one. Look, it's got a… knot in the wood there."

“It's a knotwood tree. It's supposed to do that.”

Sten approached the knot tree in question, and pulled his blade from it's sheath, slashing across the wood, breaking a bit of it into splinters. Now if they came across it again, the debate was settled.

And sure, enough, they did. Once, twice, four times over, and eventually found two of the tree mirrored across from one another identically. Something was definitely not right.  They were completely and utterly lost.


	10. Mist and Shadows

_Author's Note: Hey everyone, sorry this took so long, and sorry it's so short. Life's been crazy busy, had to take a second job, and I've largely been focusing my fanfiction efforts on a new story called Judge, Jury and Executioner, an AU looking at what would have happened had the Inquisitor been a former Red Templar. I'm rather proud of it, and would encourage anyone who likes this story to go and read that one._

_Also, if you go back to the first two chapters you should notice how radically different they are. I decided I wasn't happy with them any longer, and with some help from you dear readers (Special thanks to Rjrelentless) I've changed it to my liking. I'll probably eventually go through and update every chapter up to the battle for Ostagar._

_I would ask that if you have any feedback at all that you leave it. It's hugely beneficial to my work, and keeps the ideas and content flowing freely._

_Hope you enjoy the chapter. Much love._

* * *

 Hours of wandering through the mists of the forest later, when the sun began to reach the edge of the mountains, after they had passed the knotwood tree for the hundredth time, they were still stuck in their loop. Some spirit in the forest had a hold over them through the veil, and it wouldn't let go.

But some distant whisper found Mara's ear, like another itch at the back of her mind. A voice called to her, distantly, her mind unfurling out to reach some distant being. There was a spirit in the forest. Mara blinked and realized that. Something had dominion over them, over this forest. But something… something had freed her. But… how?

At that thought, a wave of love and warmth washed over her, just like when she met Faith in the Fade, before leaving again, leaving her back to reality, with nothing else inside of her. She blinked and looked around, still lost, but somehow… aware.

A moment later, she stepped on something that cracked under her. Before that revelation, that awakening, she would have simply assumed it a twig or a stick. But something… something told her otherwise. Reaching down, she grasped at it.

A cover that she hadn't seen came off when her hand grasped at it. And underneath was…

"Oh my god!" She screamed, stepping back and clasping her mouth in shock and horror. Underneath the cover, what she had stepped on, was the body of an elf. It had the vallaslin, the face tattoos of the other Dalish elves, but her face was decrepit and rotted away by the elements.

Mara fell backwards, and went scrambling back and away from the body in utter horror. Leliana, immediately feeling the panic of the younger woman, knelt beside her and held her closely, burying her head in the woven Jerkin they had bought for her in Lothering. Her heart broke as she felt cold tears run down her chest, hefting Mara closer.

"Shit." Luna whispered, inspecting the body. "This couldn't have been too long ago. Poor guy just got left here."

"Why was his body under a tarp?" Alistair asked, scratching his head, thinking hard in the haze that the forest held over his mind. "That… doesn't seem like something a werewolf would do."

Looking closer, Luna shook her head. "No, it doesn't. Look, his neck's broken, no scratch marks or anything." In front of them was a sheer cliff, a good dozen metres above them. Luna nodded and pointed. "Bet you anything he got thrown from up there." She looked over her shoulder at her companions, Mara still buried in Leliana's shirt and in shock. "I think he was murdered. Whoever did it came back and covered him up good."

Alistair's mouth fell dry, and he nodded. "By who?"

"Good question." She shrugged, looking over the body extensively. "A broken neck isn't exactly a clue, except that this poor bastard probably landed on his head. Could be anyone, but my money's on bandits."

"I don't think so." Mara shook her head, causing them all to look back at her. She had pulled her head away from Leliana, no longer in shock of what she had seen, but still stressed and breathing hard. "There's something evil in this forest."

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it and shook her head. It seemed by far the most likely, after the dozens of bandits who had tried to take her clan before. But still, Mara seemed to know much about these things, and she could agree that something was different about this forest than before. And there was no evidence either way, not that it really mattered in any case.

"We can't help the poor sod in any case." She shook her head, standing up and turning around. "Come on, I... don't want to look at him anymore."

Mara stood uncertainly, her legs shaking as Leliana helped her up. She knew that this was going to be it, that the others were just going to ignore this as a random killing in the woods, and that they were just going to continue being lost. But she knew that there was something about it that she needed to know. Some reason why she had that revelation to find it.

"We should look at that cliff." She insisted, gripping her staff with determination. "There's… I think we'll find something up there, something having to do with these werewolves." Luna raised an eyebrow, and she just shook her head. "Look… we've been wondering for hours, we've passed that same damnable tree a thousand times. This is the only lead we have so far and, given this forest, I don't think we're going to find it again."

"Mara," Luna's voice was exasperated and weary, as if she were stuck in this situation with a child. "There's nothing up there, I can promise you. Even if you go up there, even if you find something, even if you somehow manage to find whoever killed him and get him put away or whatever, what are the odds of it being connected to what we're doing? What werewolves just throw people off cliffs like that, then go back to hide the bodies? Look, I've lived me whole life in forests like this one, a few times even in this forest itself. There's murders in these places all the time, drunk debates, people looking to take out business partners, just plain out bandits killing for coin. It's just a coincidence that we found that poor sod, nothing connected to us ourselves."

Mara shook her head again. She knew how stupid it sounded when put like that, but there was something deep inside of her that knew that whatever that feeling earlier that had made her find the body had been there for a reason. She hadn't made it this far, survived the Circle for so many years, without learning to trust instinct.

"There's magic everywhere in this forest." She insisted. "There's… there's someone, something out there. Something powerful. I know more about magic than anyone else here." Morrigan gave a derivative snort, but they just ignored it. "There's no coincidences in magic. Whatever happened here, whoever this man was… it's something to do with what we're looking for. I know it is. Just… just trust me on this."

Luna sighed, looking around to where she felt they should go further. "Fine." She pointed to a fork in the road further down the road. "Look, it's getting dark. That path should lead right up to that cliff. We'll make a camp at the crossroads there, and you can look around to your heart's content while we cook dinner. We'll sleep when you come back, and start out again in the morning."

Mara nodded in acknowledgement. Not the best she could have hoped for, but she didn't blame Luna for not believing her. She surely looked distress still from her discovery, and under any other circumstance it would be the most pragmatic thing to just gloss over it and continue on. But this couldn't be a coincidence that she had found it immediately after. Whatever this was, it led to their Witherfang.

* * *

The others had set up camp while Mara left, and now they were just cold and starving. At least constant movement had kept them warm and their minds from their hunger. Now there was nothing left but the howling of the wind, no one in the mood for conversation.

" _Hear me..._ " A voice from forever away whispered, and they turned in a daze, a fog over their senses. " _Listen to my words..._ " The voice was like ten, stitched together in an inhuman choir. And it was in their heads, not just heard.

" What the… hell… was that?" Luna slurred, fumbling for one of her blades but never finding it. "Did you… did you… hear… that?" She couldn't think, the fog in her was too great. All that was left was instinct, like a wild animal.

" I… think so?" Alistair stumbled. "It was… was..." He looked down, rubbing his eyes, looking for the word. "I… don't know."

" _Listen to me..._ " It hissed, and they all heeded it. " _You cannot survive… will not prevail against this Lady of the Forest… alone. I can help… if you listen._ "

" What… what is that?" Leliana asked, swaying on her feet. Something was… something was wrong but... it was… everywhere.

" _Listen… Without me… you will die. You will all die. And without you, your Blight will destroy everything and everyone in this world._ "

And with those words, a feeling of despair settled over the whole of the group, settling into their bones and making them shiver to the bone, except for Sten. Who stepped back, looking around. He felt fogged and confused as with the rest of the group, but the emotions that had taken the rest of the group didn't come over him.

" Well..." Morrigan mumbled, struggling against herself to find the words. "You… most certainly are… cheery."

" _I can save you._ " It whispered, and hope came back over them. " _I am the only thing that can help you. Follow my voice._ "

They all followed it wordlessly, the voice had settled in feelings of helplessness and despair deep inside of them all, except for Sten, who hadn't felt hope or despair for months on end, who was no longer capable of feeling such emotion.

" I will wait there." He said, and they all turned with an eyebrow raised. "To wait for the Warden." The others nodded, and set off into the forest to follow the voice.


	11. *Update*

_Author's Note: So I feel bad leaving off without letting anyone still following my crap in on the loop. I'm not sure I'm in a position to keep writing fanfiction. Suffice it to say, I'm not good at it. I don't feel as though I should keep dragging this fandom even further down. Additionally, fanfiction has begun to feel like... a job, to me, and that's not at all what it should be. This should be a labour of love._

_And, this story, to say the least, I feel has utterly failed to be what I wanted it to be. If anyone asks, wants me to, I could continue, but otherwise... why ruin a good premise for a story by failing to execute it properly?_

_If I'm still alive come new year, I might be back. If anyone wants to see this keep going, go ahead and leave a message, but otherwise we're probably close to the end of this account._


	12. Red Storm

Mara had known something was going to happen. Granted, she had never dared to hope that this whole adventure was going to be easy, to stop the Blight and the Darkspawn by themselves. Then again, that was what she had wanted, wasn't it? A grand adventure, in the grand mountains of lonely peaks, and fields of endless summer where no king could claim a stake.

It had begun raining heavily, a thunderstorm, the kind of which she had never seen stuck in the Circle. It was terrific, a beautiful summer's storm of which she had never seen, or imagined, anything of the sort. The lightning splinted on the peaks of the mountains, making the rocks and stones themselves shiver under it's might. Great crashes clashed in the air, rumbling and echoing in the valley of the forest. The overwhelming darkness was frequently broken by flashes of great noise and light, only to be returned moments later.

Drops of cold water dripped upon her hair, trickling down her face. Lightning streaked across the sky, and the air swelled heavy with moisture. Goosebumps crawled up her shoulders and the back of her spine as if ants were crawling upon her skin. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. Another flash of white light raged across the sky, white beams of light plunging through the thick grey clouds that plunged from beneath a dark sky.

"So, you are the Warden I have heard so much of."

Mara whipped around, clutching her staff so hard her hands were white. Behind her was an elf, with long blonde hair that was pulled back in a braid that was deliberately and carefully taken care of. He had dark, tanned skin and an elegant tattoo across the side of his face. He wore an outfit of leather and intricately woven cloth, with chainmail underneath.

And, most importantly, he had two swords at his belt. One had a crow's head at the pommel atop a hilt engraved with gold, and the other was more plain, a simple leather hilt.

"W-who are you?" She stammered, stepping back with inconsistent breathing, panicking.

"Ah," He smiled, looking like a wolf having cornered an animal. "I suppose it would be rude to simply kill you without so much as a how-do-you do, hm? My name is Zevran, Zevran Ariani of Antiva."

"Mara." She said slowly, backing up. "What do you want with me?"

Zevran shrugged simply. "It's not about what I want, I'm afraid. It's about what the Crows have been hired to do. Someone paid us quite the sum to take your head. A shame, I hate to kill such a lovely woman."

That was all she could handle. Mara lashed out with a force of magic, then turned and ran as fast as she could. " **Help!** " She screamed as loud as she could, but before she could say it again a thrown knife found the back of her calf and she fell to the ground, screaming.

She turned and saw the assassin approaching, sprinting towards her. She stood as best she could, on trembling legs, and faced him, screaming for someone, anyone, to hear her.

A moment later, he was upon her. The blade with a golden hilt that was made of a flaring white steel that was almost difficult to look at. Mara raised her staff as a shield, and it stopped the impressive blade dead in it's tracks, clanking off and utterly confusing the assassin, who had never seen that happen to this blade before, never encountered anything that could stop it like that.

Her staff was ironbark, and she silently thanked Irving for such a precious gift. She couldn't defeat him, that she already knew, but this might buy her enough time for someone to come. For a terrible moment, panic took her as she wondered if anyone _was_ coming, but then the blades were upon her again and there was no more room for fear.

Zevran's blades carried from one attack to another in a masterful, whirling dance of death, barely giving her enough time to keep up with her staff. None of his attacks found her, but every time he hit her staff it stole more and more of the strength from her arms, and it was obvious to the both of them that she couldn't survive much longer.

In a desperate attempt to stave him off just a bit longer, Mara lashed out in an attack of her own, a surge of mana that barely scratched him, and swung her staff in a vicious, clumsy blow that still struck it's target, striking him over the head.

And Zevran smiled, having goaded her into exactly what he wanted. He attacked her once more, and to her credit, she stopped it with her staff again, but the blade stuck fast. With his other sword, he made a lightning fast strike with the golden hilt, slamming it into her head and caving in a bit of her skull.

Mara cried out and stumbled back, where the assassin slid deftly behind her, tripping her. Worse still, her head slammed into a rock as she hit the ground and skull cracked with a sickening sound. Zevran stood and straightened himself out, beaming with pride, ready to take the final blow.

"Parshaara. Put the Blade down."

Zevran looked up, and saw a warrior armed in heavy armour and with a massive broadsword in hand, grey skin and dark eyes staring him down. Sten had arrived.

"One step closer, my grey skinned friend," Zevran warned. "And I'll cut her a new hole to breathe through." Sten raised his blade, angling it directly at Zevran's head. He was somehow intending to throw the massive sword, and Zevran laughed. "You think you could hit me with that?"

"I do." Sten said simply. "This blade is blacksteel. If the blade hit you, you would be killed where you stand. If not, it would be enough to stop you where you stand long enough for me to reach you. Step away from the Warden, and I won't have to. Unless you don't believe a Beresaad can throw a knife."

Smiling, Zevran stepped away from the fallen Warden, admiring the tenacity of her protector, whoever he might be. His lesser blade stayed trained on where she lay, groaning and injured, incapacitated. But his stronger one was now pointed decidedly at the warrior, who lowered his blade from a throwing position, and pointed it at Zevran.

"And who might you be?" He smiled, raising a curious eyebrow. "I believe I've seen you in my stalking, my grey skinned friend."

"I am Sten." He said simply.

"Well then, Sten," Zevran smiled wickedly, flaring both blades. "The Crows send their regards."

He sprinted at Sten and attacked with both blades at once, which the Qunari blocked with the flat of his blade, clanging through the air, and retributed swiftly with his sword, Zevran dancing just barely out of it's way. Zevran had incredible reflexes and speed, but Sten had endurance and strength. In the end, this might just be a contest of stamina.

Zevran lashed out again, hitting Sten once in the chest, though it barely scratched him through the armour, and slid backwards in a deft move out of the reach of his sword.

Now it was Sten's turn to attack. He lashed out in a vicious series of blows, and Zevran barely kept up, and was soon slashed across the chest, his screams of pain genuine. Before another could land, he used impressive acrobatics to leap out of the way, gasping and panting for breath, unused to an actual one-on-one challenge after so many years of poisoning cups and stabbing in the back. Tricks and poison were his trade, not armour and war.

A few blows later, Zevran jabbed with his lesser sword, and it was stopped dead by Sten's armour, who kicked him in the chest in retribution, sending him sprawling. But before it could be taken advantage of, Zevran rolled out of the way and back onto his feet, jumping _over_ Sten's sword when it came again.

When a strike came for him, Zevran tried to block it with his lesser sword so he would be free to lunge and hit, knowing that only his greater could break the armour. But instead his lesser sword was broken by the sheer might of the blow, making a screaming sound as it cleaved into shards.

Before he could recover from it, Sten grabbed the stunned assassin around the collar and threw him away like a doll, using his own momentum from his attempted attack against him. In a moment, Zevran knew he couldn't win this battle through force. He would need guile. And then he remembered. The cliff the Warden had been investigating. The Qunari was heavy and in full armour. He had no idea if a fall from it would kill him, but it would get rid of him, certainly.

He ran for the cliff, still facing Sten, and met him blow for desperate blow, and feigned his injuries even worse than they already were so that the Qunari would think him a dying animal, ready to be finished. He was hit over the head with the hilt of the sword, his leg gouged open, stabbed into his side, and Zevran knew this had to end, or he would soon be dead. His speed was gone, his agility, his only strength against this warrior. All he had left was his guile.

Then Sten did exactly what he wanted. He charged, and swung the blade over his head to cleave through the elf in a single smooth motion. Zevran darted under it's reach, and slammed his blade into Sten's breastplate, through his chest, and used his charge against him, twisting him with his back to the cliff, every last bit of his remaining strength going into a series of lightning fast jabs through his armour before shoving him. Sten stumbled, almost at the cliff's edge.

Zevran gave a final kick to the middle of the chest, and Sten fell off of the cliff.

The Antivan Assassin collapsed, dropping his blade by his side, panting and gasping for air, sweat furrowed on his brow and blood on his lips. He rested a moment, before he heard a noise behind him, and turned.

Mara stood there, bleeding heavily but now conscious. And in her hand was the broken remnants of Zevran's blade, and she held it against him, utterly unsure of herself, but knowing that she had no other chance. He couldn't turn his back to grab his sword from where it had fallen, unless he wanted a blade in the back. So instead he stood slowly, backing towards the cliff and laying a foot on the sword, Mara slowly approaching.

He tried to reach down for it, and rolled away from the cliff just in time to avoid a blade in the skull, and she kicked the sword further away so she was the only armed one.

Even unarmed and injured, Zevran was still incredibly dangerous with his training far surpassing hers. She tried to swing it, but Zevran caught her arm and punched her repeatedly in the chest, but she managed to squirm out of his grip a moment later, bleeding from her lip.

Her next flurry was more successful, striking him again and again in an elegant sequence, but failed when she tried to grab him, being hit square in the chest again to knock her back and ripping the blade from her grasp, but was wounded enough that wrangled out of his grip and punched him across the face, fumbling with the broken blade, dropping it.

Mara dove for it, but Zevran had seen it coming, grabbing her by the base of the skull when she hit her knees. Before he could act on it, she slammed a balled fist into his crotch and he fell, tumbling over her, facefirst into the mud.

The Warden crawled for the blade's hilt, but was treated to a kick in the back of the leg, Zevran sitting on her back and locking her neck in his hands.

"V _ete a la mierda!"_ He hissed. Mara tried to choke out a reply, but was being strangled. She grasped desperately, and found a rock, the one she had hit her head on earlier. Twisting, she slammed it into the side of his head, cracking his skull and knocking him off of her, rolling back to his feet.

Mara stood, rock in hand, and beat him back again and again before being kicked square in the chest, Zevran jumping onto her back and she stumbled. AS she tried desperately to stand with him on her back, he bit her on the neck.

She threw him off and hit him in the face once more, sending him stumbling back, before he grabbed her, and threw her onto the cliff's face. Zevran dove for the broken blade and advanced on her, holding it menacingly like she had. Neither of them were in the condition to keep fighting, and he would win by sheer virtue of being able to stand.

With a final, heaving cry, Zevran charged, her, holding the blade over his head to swing down onto her neck.

With a whirling move, Mara stood and turned, holding the golden hilted sword he had forgotten lay where she had fallen, and stabbed it through his chest. Zevran gasped and dropped his sword, swaying as pain erupted throughout him, and he screamed with the last of his strength.

She lifted the blade as he fell to his knees, ready to finish, but then she froze, cold and shocked. In his eyes, she saw the same fear and darkness from that boy in Lothering. Nothing could bring her to swing the blade down.

Not realizing Mara's struggle, Zevran saw an opening. He dove forward and tackled her with all of the strength he had left, and shoved as hard as he could until she went tumbling down the same way Sten had.


	13. Despair

Mara awoke to darkness and rain pattering on her face, cold and refreshing. She rubbed her eyes, trying to sit up a moment before dark spots ran before her eyes, forcing to return to lying on her back.

"Astaarit." She heard a familiar voice, turning her head to see the Qunari warrior that had saved her life. "Careful, basalit-an. The elf struck you well."

"T-thanks." She stammered, reaching a hand up to her head. Sure enough there were bandages around where Zevran had struck the back of her skull, and blood was on her fingers when she pulled it back. It was likely something of a miracle she was alive, given the extent of her injuries and the fall. She reached her hand up once more, weaving comforting blue strands of healing energy, mending bone and skin until the pain faded into a throbbing ache, and then into a dull sore.

"You hadn't said you were Bas Saarebas." Sten said slowly, and she looked back over, freezing as she realized she had just practised magic in front of him. She knew about the Qunari restrictions on mages, at least enough to know that the cruelty of the Templars was pale in comparison tot he iron will of the Qun.

"I… guess I hadn't." She said slowly, putting a measure in between every syllable, turning onto her side to look at him. "You're… not going to sew my lips shut now, are you?"

Sten smiled weakly. "The Qun doesn't teach magic is dangerous, it teaches that corruption is dangerous, and that it doesn't just affect your kind. You are simply prone to it." He pulled his blade from it's sheath, and her heart stilled in terror a moment before he began cleaning it. "We pity the Saarebas, but honour them as well. They are considered some of our best warriors, and we give them purpose. Several of them guard the Arishok himself." He laid the blade down, satisfied with it's upkeep. "You have purpose, and you fulfil it well, else you would not be here. Unless you fall to demons, you have little to fear from me."

Mara nodded, giving a weak smile as she returned to healing herself. That was reassuring. She had been keeping a careful watch on him since they had freed him in Lothering, keeping any magic from his sight so as not to provoke a conflict within the group. Though she shouldn't have expected to keep it from him long.

Sitting up, she froze.

Sten sat across from a campfire, firelight flickering on his features and off of his armour. But sitting across from her was a strangely familiar elf man in leathers, unconscious on the ground before her.

"W-what's he doing here?" She stammered, sitting up too quickly and almost falling over in pain. Even magic took time to fix something as bad as she had, probably a concussion, or worse.

Sten shrugged, standing up and letting a hand to the blade at his belt. "He was here when I awoke, and hasn't returned to his senses yet. I presume he fell with you."

Mara nodded slowly, standing carefully until she was at her feet, picking up her staff and leaning on it to hold herself from the ground. "I guess so. I didn't see him, but he might have come tumbling after, lost his balance."

"It seemed sensible to kill him while he was like this." Sten said simply, his voice showing little emotion of any kind. "But he might know something. I thought it best to leave the decision to you."

She thought a moment, and then shook her head. "I… wouldn't want to kill him." She affirmed, shifting and standing up fully. "Not unless he tries for us again. But… I don't know what else to do." She looked over at Sten. "Where are the others? This should probably be a group decision."

"Gone."

"Gone?" Her eyebrows shot open, her heart stilling. "To where? What happened?"

"There were voices deeper in the forest." He hesitated a moment, unsure of how to describe it. "They whispered to us, convinced the others to go and… talk to it."

"Hell." She whispered under her breath. "That… sounds like a demon of some sort." Sten nodded gravely. "What do we do?" Sten shook his head, not knowing the answer. "S-shit." She looked away, thinking a moment. "You heard it? Could you show me where it came from?" Thinking a moment, he nodded solemnly. It was worth the chance, at the very least.

She turned back to Zevran. Even with herself and Sten, she didn't favour their odds considering the power of the magic that hung over this forest. She was absolutely confidant that Faith would protect her as it had before, but they would still need all of the help they could get. And at the moment that only meant one thing…

"Come, we'll… see if we can wake him."

Sten raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Na'thek." Was all he said, drawing the greatsword like a child's toy. "I will stand watch." Mara nodded and leaned down to Zevran, shaking him hard until he opened his eyes.

"Mmm..." He groaned quietly, rolling over and opening his eyes. "I… oh." His eyes widened and darkened as he looked up at her and Sten standing over him, glaring with cold eyes down unto him. "I… rather thought I would wake up dead. Or… well, not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet?"

"I..." She stammered. What was she to say? Simply to ask for help? For the man who had tried to kill them? No. He had clearly followed them for some time, perhaps he at the very least knew of this demon, more than her at any rate. "I had questions."

"Ah." His eyes lit up, and he gave a faint smile. "So I am to be interrogated then? Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran, as I already… mentioned. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of assassinating any remaining Grey Wardens. At task at which it seems I have, sadly, failed."

"I'm rather glad you failed." She said dryly, shaking her head.

Zevran shrugged. "So would I be, in your position. But, for me it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting beaten by a girl and a… whatever your friend there is, and captured sets a rather poor precedent in one's budding assassin career."

"So what are these _Antivan Crows_ then?" asked Mara, leaning on her staff with all of her weight. He seemed readily willing to answer her, probably in hope for his own life. They were on limited time, but she couldn't exactly just come out and ask what she had to.

"I'm surprised you hadn't heard of us." He said, trying to sit up before feeling the pointed end of her staff on his chest, and then laid back down. "Back where I come from, we're rather infamous. We're an assassin's league, renowned for always getting the job done… so to speak." He flashed a rather knowing smile. "Then again, I doubt the Circle tells much off us to you, no?"

Mara didn't let him know how much that shook her to hear. So he knew about her life, and where she came from. Of course he did. He probably knew everything about her family, the Circle, the first person she'd kissed…

"Then you'd have come at a cost." She narrowed her eyes. Assassin's never worked for free. "Who hired you to kill us?"

He thought a moment, a wondering furrow in his brow. "A rather… taciturn fellow at the capital. Teyrn Loghain, the Hero of River's Dane? You know him?" Mara nodded gravely. "I've no idea what his quarrel with you would be, I image you threaten his power in one way or another? Not like it matters."

"So you're loyal to him then?"

Zevran shrugged. "Not exactly. I was contracted to do a service, one I have no failed, obviously. Beyond that, no, I hold no loyalty to the man."

Mara gave a short sigh. That was all well and good, but Antivan and Loghain were far away, distant and of little concern at the moment. But Luna and the others were almost certainly walking into a trap while they wasted time speaking.

"You've clearly been following us a while, at the least. This forest, do you know anything about it? Temples? Fortresses? Spirits or demons of any kind?"

Zevran nodded emphatically. "I do. I may have… overheard you were coming here, so to speak, and looked into this forest. Plenty of spirits, but at the northern end if an ancient temple where the Dalish locked away a demon of despair."

"Maker's breath." She cursed, closing her eyes. Of course. How had Luna not warned them? So that's what had been wrong since they had arrived. Despair… and if Faith hadn't been watching over her.

"Let me guess." He raised a knowing eyebrow. "Your travelling companions have gotten into trouble with this despair?" She hesitated a moment, and then nodded. No point in lying about it, it's not like it could help him in any way. "Well… I believe I may be able to help you, if you're done interrogating me?"

Mara looked to Sten, who's face was expressionless. Zevran was going to try something, that much she could be sure of. But he knew of this demon, perhaps how it was trapped and how to keep it there. Even if he didn't, if push came to shove...

Looking back, she swore under her breath.

"I'm listening." She said as fast as she could. "Make it quick."

"The thing is," He sat up slightly, and she let him have that little comfort at least. "I failed to kill you, and therefore my own life is forfeit. That's how it works. Even if you don't kill me, the Crows will." Mara nodded. Of course. Assassin's weren't known for their homely manner. "The thing is, I'm rather fond of living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crows some pause, yes? So, let me serve you instead."

"And what's to keep you from finishing the job later?" She asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I was never terribly keen on joining the Crows in any case." He shrugged. "They bought me on the slave market back when I was a child. I rather think I've paid my debt back to them, tenfold. But the only way out is to sign up with someone that they can't touch." He raised two eyebrows, the meaning obvious.

She sighed under her breath. She couldn't trust him, obviously, but on the other hand, the options were limited. With help, she might be able to reach this ruin where they had been headed in time. On her own, or just Sten, she might risk losing everyone else. Even just standing here debating was costing them time.

"What would you want in return?" She asked weakly, wanting to at least appear as if she was going to reject him.

"Well… let's see." He sat up completely. "Being allowed to live would be nice, not to mention make me marginally more useful to you. And, somewhere down the line, if you decide you no longer have a use for me, then I can go on my own way. Until them I am yours. What do you think?

Mara turned to Sten, and he gave a single, solemn nod. She sighed once more, swore again, and then offered a hand out to help the assassin up.

"A shrewd plan." Sten nodded approvingly. "Though I would examine your food more closely from now."

"Come on." She said, turning to Sten and nodding. "We don't have another second to waste."

* * *

As it turned out, it wasn't nearly as difficult as she thought to track the others. In whatever haze of promises and fear the demon had inflicted on them, they hadn't made much of an effort to cover their trail. The demon spoke to them the whole of the way there, growing louder and louder the more that they followed the path that the others had taken. Zevran led the way, their eyes on him the whole time, but never made any attempt at anything.

Soon they came across the temple, and it was breathtaking. It was an ancient elven cathedral, with towering marble walls that had sadly fallen into ruin, overrun by the inevitable growth of trees and greenery.

Inside, it was completely filled with dirt and stone, only allowing for tunnels dug into it's surface, deeper into the ground. It was deep, dank and dark, more akin to something built of the claustrophillilic Dwarves than any sort of elven design. The passages were crossed and tangled in all directions; and the way went down and down, spiralling into the earth, and horribly stuffy. More than once Mara thought about the Circle, the clean floors and the soft beds, a paradise compared to here. She had to strain her eyes in the darkness, but the trail was clear enough with Alistair's metal boots driving into the soil.

The demon's voice eventually ceased trying to convince them to give up hope, and soon began taunting them, chuckling and laughing in it's unmerciful, stony voice, promising nothing but death and misery for the three. But on they went, hands on their weapons as duty drove them forward.

Now came a glimmer of red light in the room in front of them, and she gasped. A demon stood in the centre of it was what death must have looked like, a ghastly looking skeleton in a tattered grey robe, standing in a bastion circle in the middle of the floor, the prison from which it had been freed from. Strewn across the room was their comrades, lying still, and her heart froze in it's place.

They were much too late.

" _And who would these miserable persons be?_ " asked the demon, not looking up but still seeing them well enough, a malicious smile across it's teeth. " _More travellers in my forest, perhaps? More of the Grey Wardens?_ "

"You know exactly who I am." said Mara, walking into the room, oddly emboldened at the moment. Her heart had frozen, and the pain hadn't yet come flooding in yet, only anger and determination. If they were dead then she would ensure that no one else would ever die to it again.

" _I do._ " It smiled, finally looking up and fixing her with the cold, empty sockets it should have kept it's eyes in. " _The missing Warden. The one with your own spirit sitting on your shoulder._ "

She gritted her teeth, and held her staff up, magic flowing up and into her fingertips. "Then come and finish your job."

It's smile widened a little further, and then it dashed towards her, only to be met by a terrific flash of lightning from her staff, a smell of burnt refuse and leather filling the air as it let out an agonized scream, jumping back. Sten and Zevran ran forward with their blades ready, dashing in for their own blades while her magic kept it engaged.

At that moment, Leliana awoke, having been knocked unconscious upon the demon's release, when a cloud of lecherous entropic energy had been released along with it. She looked over, and was in awe. She saw flashing blue magic and a demon driven back, as if Mara were an angel guarding over her. Steel and magic flared and the demon powerful enough to defeat their entire group was brought down. Then unconsciousness took her again.


	14. Awake

_Author's Note: Sorry, this chapter's not that great. I was seriously tempted to skip it, but I figured this is a journey. This should get a lot more fun after the forest is over, promise. If anyone has any ideas on how to improve this story, I would love to hear it, since I feel it has trouble matching up to some of my other stories._

_I already said this on another one of my stories, Judge, Jury and Executioner (Which you should totally go read if you like this one, I like that story more than this), but I'm currently in the hospital with heart problems. For a few days I'll have plenty of time to write and chapters should be more frequent, but they might slow down once I get released._

* * *

 

Leliana awoke groggy, hammers pounding in her head. She sat up a little before falling limp once more, giving a quiet groan of complaint.

Then her eyes opened full as the flood of memories came back. Of what the demon had said, of what they had done. They had freed it. The Maker's cursed, and they had simply loosed it back onto the world once more. Why? Now, with a clearer mind, it seemed so incredibly stupid, so foolish of her to have fallen for such a thing. But that wasn't what it had felt like then, was it? It felt as if the demon had reached out and touched her heart and mind, the only thing that made any sense, undeniably right. Just like… just like...

Leliana turned on her side, curling up as fear and old pain surfaced. She had believed it's every word, as had everyone else. By all rights, she should be dead by now. Why wasn't she?

She looked up, and had her breath taken away.

Sitting watch over all of them was Mara, sitting on by a makeshift fire with her eyes sealed on the darkness where more dark things may lurk. She remembered seeing her magic whirling and flashing, seeing the Warden fight off a demon that none of them could even resist within the safety of their own minds. She had protected her, Leliana knew that. Mara had saved her. And it wasn't the first time, was it?

Knees shaking, Leliana groped the stone on all fours until she could stand. Taking a steadying breath, she strode forward until Mara turned, a smile painting her lips.

"You're awake." She whispered in awe, eyes sparkling with happiness. "Maker's breath. I thought… after we killed it… you were all still breathing, but I hadn't dared to hope..." She shook her head, smiling widely. Then she scooted to the side on her seat, patting the space beside her. "You can come sit, if you want." Smiling, she sat beside the Warden, grateful for the warmth of the fire and of her travelling companion.

A long time of silence passed, only the crackling of the fire filling the room. The two of them were the only ones awake, Sten and Zevran having taken a rest while Mara stood watch. They had resolved to wait a day for the others to awaken, and then continue on if they didn't awaken, bringing the others to the Dalish for a second opinion once their business in the forest was finished.

"So, how are you feeling?" Mara asked after a long time passed, so immensely grateful Leliana was awake and alive. It was a good indication of the others, that they would awaken soon enough, that the demon hadn't destroyed them so completely.

Leliana sighed, and Mara immediately regretted the question. "Oh, I don't know. Everything… hurts." She looked away, trying not to let Mara see the sadness in her eyes, but she saw and felt it in equal measures, her heart aching. "You saved me." Her voice was a whisper now, biting her lip as she spoke. "I… we were all so… so stupid, foolish, and you saved us."

Mara shook her head, giving a reassuring smile that Leliana didn't see, putting a hand over hers. "It's okay, Leli. I… know what it's like, dealing with such things. We should be grateful I showed up in time to stop it from killing you, and leave it at that."

She turned, opening her mouth to retort until she saw the honest sparkle in the Warden's eyes. She meant it. It was a relief that the others would be alright, nothing more. She likely should have been angry, but she saw no reason to be. They were alive. They had survived one more day, and there was no better reason to be grateful then that.

"You forgive easily." Leliana observed, trying not to show how relieved she was. Not to mention how much she liked the soft hand laid atop her own... "I'm not sure I could do that, if I were you."

Mara's smile widened a little, and she shook her head once more. "There's nothing to forgive. Really. I was just so worried I was too late, especially when I came in here and you were… it doesn't matter. You're fine, and I'm sure the others will be too. You would have done the same for me."

Leliana smiled back at her, and rested her head on Mara's shoulder.

* * *

 

"You what?!"

Mara sighed, slumping her shoulders. She should have expected this. Alistair was staring at her in disbelief as if she had gone utterly mad, in spite of the fact that her decision had saved them all.

"I couldn't just leave him there." She protested, gesturing to where Zevran stood, utterly mute as they argued over her mercy for him. "And I wasn't just going to kill him after all that."

"So you just brought the assassin, someone who tried and nearly succeeded in killing you... **with you**?!" He shouted in disbelief, jaw hanging open. "I don't think I'm being unreasonable when I say that is absolutely insane."

"I don't think we can judge." Leliana defended before Mara could open her mouth to continue arguing. "Without her, we would all be dead now. Showing mercy is never a weakness, and she clearly knows what she's doing."

Alistair looked to her now, his jaw still hung open in utter disbelief. "So we should just ignore the fact that an _assassin_ is here now? That so long as he's here we'll have to watch him constantly? Should we just start inviting every last person who tries to kill us to come with us?"

"I'm with Alistair." Luna nodded grimly. "I can appreciate the sentiment, not killing every last person we come across, but… this? Even if he did help you here..." She trailed off, her meaning clear.

Leliana sighed. "I'm not saying it's what I would have done, but are we really in a place to judge?" She looked around as if asking for an answer, elegant eyebrows raised. "We wouldn't be here right now if not for her. Maybe she needed him to stop this demon, maybe without _him_ we wouldn't here right now." She looked around, silently asking someone to refute that. "If she, the person he tried to kill by the way, sf willing to give him a chance, I think we at least owe him that."

"We shouldn't waste anything." Sten nodded in agreement. "Especially potential allies."

"I think it's a fine plan." Morrigan added as well, though partially just to spite Alistair. "Though I wouldn't mind overmuch if he were to kill Alistair."

"Maker's breath." Alistair shook his head, defeated. "Fine. Just… keep him away from me."

Luna sighed, nodding. "Alright, you make a fine point. Just… if we needed a reminder that we're desperate, it just knocked on the door, said hello, and stayed for tea." She sighed, kicking dirt into the fire in front of her until it was little more than embers flickering in the dirt. "I suppose we should be going, this was far too big of a detour."

"Where are we even going?" Alistair groaned, looking around. "I mean, we're alive, but no closer to where we were supposed to go."

"I'm not so sure about that." Zevran spoke up, and all eyes turned to him. "If I might speak. You see, I'd investigated this forest when I followed you in here. The werewolves you hunt were coming from this direction, and everything I had heard was of evil lurking here. That could have just been our demon, but I don't think so."

"You think this Lady of the Forest is in here with us?" Mara asked, and Zevran nodded. "Maker's breath, did the ancient elves just stuff this place full of evil?" She sighed, looking around. There was definitely something still in this place, though it didn't resonate anything like the demon had. Evil had left this place, but there was still something… powerful here. It was like feeling Faith, powerful, but gentle.

As it turned out, Zevran was right. They found another tunnel, this one leading further and further into the earth than they already were. The path would turn to pathed stone, breaking out and into a hallway of the cathedral, only to lead into another dirt tunnel.

"Mythal." Luna whispered, holding a torch to keep the darkness at bay. "What happened here? What did the ancient elves do to this place?" The words echoed in the darkness, and none of them knew the answer.

They came upon another hallway, and froze in place.

In the middle of the room was four werewolves, standing in a half circle around the tunnel they had exited from. Mara jumped back, ripping the staff from her back instinctively, but one of them held up a hand.

"Stop!" It snarled, and she paused a moment. Had it… spoken? The other werewolves began to growl, and the one that had spoken turned to them, motioning them down. "Brothers, at ease, ease." It turned back to them, who were now just staring at them mutely. "Listen to us: it seems our conflict was… accidental. We do not wish to have any more of our people hurt." His voice choked, and Mara could feel sadness in him, loss and want. "Our lady would ask you to meet with her."

She looked over her shoulder, and found all eyes on her, waiting to see what she said. At last she gave a slow nod, turning to face the wolves once more. "It's not like this day can get any more weird." She shrugged, giving a long and ragged drawl for a moment before stepping further into the room.

The werewolves nodded, and then turned to run into the tunnel behind them.

* * *

 

What they found was shocking. This lady of the forest wasn't a werewolf like she had been expecting. Rather, she was… well, a woman. A rather attractive woman, as Mara noted for a moment before shaking it off and focusing on the task at hand. She had bark crawling up her skin like armour, long dark hair that tangled down her her waist and eyes of black with silver irises.

"Welcome." The lady smiled, walking closer to them. Bark and moss covered her body, accenting the long black hair and dark eyes. "I am the Lady of the Forest you look for."

"I don't trust this." One of the werewolves hissed, barking at Mara and her companions. "We shouldn't be falling for this, Lady. Kill them now, before they lead those elves too us."

Mara swallowed hard at that threat, clutching at her staff, but the Lady held up a peaceable hand between them. "Hush, Swiftrunner." She soothed in a calming voice, and both parties lowered their weapons away. "Blood and battle has only seen us killed, your brothers and sisters, my children. That is not what we will fight for." She turned to Mara, dark eyes sad and forlorn. "I apologize. They… struggle with their nature."

Mara nodded, smiling sadly. "Don't we all?"

The Lady smiled sadly in turn. "I suppose we do."

Mara's companions looked at the gathering with questioning eyes. This was so strange, even to the most open minded of them all. But there was little they could do. This… _thing_ seemed interested in talking only to Mara, and that seemed a fine enough thing. It seemed to be a demon, or some sort of spirit at the least, and Mara would know best how to deal with such a thing. And it seemed most interested in talking instead of battle, and that was something they could live with, to say the least.

"I'm certain you have questions." She said, laying a hand on one of her werewolves with sad, sympathetic eyes that was the suffering of her children. "Let me explain myself, please." Mara nodded mutely, watching. There was honesty in this woman, an aura of sincerity and compassion deep within, even if it was covered with layer upon layer of bestial nature.

"These are my children." She said quietly, still looking at them and not meeting the gaze of the Wardens. "Perhaps not in flesh and blood, but mine nonetheless. We were driven together by a similar nature, those who were struck with this disease that turned us to little more than animals." She looked over at Mara with those same dark eyes. "Did Zathrian tell you what caused this disease? The one that turned us into mere beasts, the same one that now plagues his own people?" Mara shook her head. "It was him."

For a moment, they were all silent as they took in the meaning. Mara opened her mouth to speak, but not before Luna shouted: "Ma Halam!" all eyes turned to her, and she was suddenly furious at the mere possibility that someone was accusing a Keeper of such an awful thing. Perhaps of a human politician, or one of the dwarven council men, but never of a Keeper. "How dare you accuse him of such a thing?" She looked around, seething, and all eyes were on her. "Keepers and Firsts are the best of the Dalish people! The very idea that they would do something so… so idiotic, so foolish, is..." She scoffed, gritting her teeth angrily. "I don't believe that."

"Luna." Mara held up a hand, feeling the same anger fuelling through her in turn, as the conduit of emotion she was even as sadness from the Lady found her at the same time. "Let her tell her story. Please."

"You agree with her?" Luna nearly shouted, a hand trailing down to her blade, a move that didn't go unnoticed by the werewolves, who hunched over and growled in hostility. "Let us kill them and be done with this."

"No." She said, stepping in between Luna and the werewolves with hands raised as she tried desperately to keep herself calm in spite of the raging anger that began rising in her. She could see red, feeling her muscles tense as adrenaline rose in her. It wasn't her anger, she knew, but that didn't make it any easier to live with. "Look, I don't know what or who's right." She tried to reach into Luna's emotions, finding the source of pain, the nerve that the words had struck so harshly. "But enough people are dead already. If I can stop this, then I will. Whatever it takes. And if I can do that without being eaten by wolves, then all the better."

Luna gave a heavy, heaving sigh of annoyance, but nodded and let her hand away from her blade, the werewolves standing down in turn.

"I understand what you feel." The lady spoke, and they looked to her. "Just listen to what I have to say. Please." Luna took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you." She looked to Mara now, knowing her to be the voice of reason here. "Centuries and centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this forest, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest, and they sought to drive the Dalish away." Luna snorted derisively. Of course. "Zathrian was just a young man back then. He had a son and daughter that he loved dearly and, while out hunting, they were both captured.

"Oh Maker." Mara whispered sadly. Now that Luna's anger was gone, all the emotion that was left in this place was a bloody, sad history rife with anger and pain. A knot tightened in her chest, feeling such grief from the Lady as she recounted.

"You can see where this is going." The Lady nodded, closing her eyes as she told the tale. "To put it simply, the boy was killed, but they kept the girl alive for..." She shook her head sadly, and Mara nearly collapsed in pain and anguish taken from this woman. "You understand. She eventually killed herself, and Zathrian… never recovered. So he came to this ruins, and… summoned a great and terrible spirit. And so it was that this Witherfang came to be."

"I see." She bit back a sob, nodding sadly. This was centuries past, little to be angry or broken over. Still… "And this… this Witherfang was a werewolf, I take it? He made it hunt the humans, turn them to werewolves like it, and now the same curse hurts his own people?"

The Lady nodded. "Please, mortal. Go to Zathrian, bring him here. If he sees our plight, our suffering..." She shook her head. "Please."

Mara took a deep breath, nodding once more. "I'll try, I promise."

"Assuming that this is true," Luna spoke, no longer angry, now more tired and resigned. "That this is his fault, that a Keeper of all people would seek such a petty revenge… how in the hell are we supposed to get Zathrian to agree to come here and meet with you?"

The Lady nodded understandingly, understanding completely the thoughts running through the young Dalish elf, missing for her people, her life, her love. "If he comes, I will bring out Witherfang to meet with him. And if he doesn't, I also have the means to hide the same them from him forever."


	15. *Update*

_So, this story hasn't been updated in forever. I'd been focusing on another story of mine that I've been too mentally ill to continue, unfortunately. Now that I'm starting to go on SSA once more, I have decided to rewrite this story into something more satisfying for me. The rewrite is called Edge of the World, and is available on my profile. Sorry for any inconvenience, I understand if you don't wish to check out the new story, and I hope you enjoy if you do._


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